A Light In The Darkness
by Alquavanii
Summary: A tragic event has forever changed the future of Rohan. Eomer must find a way to wade through the grief and despair to rebuilt his broken kingdom and make a future for a people rendered nearly hopeless by war and death. Set post War of the Ring. A/U, possible eventual Eomer/OC, rated M for some violence, descriptions of wounds, and some mature adult (ie sexual) content.
1. Chapter 1

A/N- I do not own anything associated with LOTR, it's books, movies, characters, etc. I only own my own original characters. This is a work of fanfiction, and takes place after the events in LOTR, so I do not have much to go on, and much of the storyline will be fictitious, as will some of the Rohirric culture, which seems to be a mixture of Viking/ Anglo-Saxon. I will be using a blend of both book and movie verse, depending on how the different events fit into my tale. I will be changing some of the known history of the end of the War and the new Fourth Age, because again, fanfiction! This is my first published story although I have been thinking up stories for years. I hope I give my ideas some justice and you folks like it.

And now with that out of the way... here goes nothin!

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Chapter One – A Dreary Day

Cold winds whipped across the White Mountains from the west, drawing whatever warmth it could from the forms of people lining the roadway as it wound from the gates of Edoras. The sun had risen a few moments before, bright and crisp in the winter air. Usually, such a beautiful dawn would have been welcomed with joy, a resplendent show of nature in the depths of a cold winter.

But not today. This day was one of grief and sadness as six warriors, clad in their green cloaks and horsetail helms, carried a litter down the hill from the gate. Upon it lay the beautiful Lothiriel, Princess of Dol Amroth, daugher of the Prince Imrahil, wife and queen of the King, Eomer Eadig.

She had passed from the world two days prior, but not before giving the king and people their hope for the future, Elfwine, the son and heir of Rohan, living proof of the continuation of the House of Eorl. She had been in labor for nearly three days, and once her son had been born, had succumbed to childbed fever two days later.

All in Edoras had heard their king's keening scream from Meduseld, the great mead-hall, as he had held his wife in her last moments. It was a strange mixture of emotion for everyone, for on one hand there was gladness, and joy that their king had an heir, a beautiful son to carry on the line, and on the other sadness and an irreparable grief that their queen had succumbed.

Tears ran freely from the faces of men and women alike as the six pallbearers brought her down from the city. A few children ran forward, placing bouquets of winter flowers upon the bier, some of the girls adding their dolls or other things that the queen had helped to make for the children of the Rohirric capital.

Next to the burial cairn stood seven people of regal bearing, clad in black with gold embellishments, all with tears staining their wind-reddened faces. First in the line was Eowyn, the White Lady of Rohan, standing next to her intended, Faramir, Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien, cousin of Lothiriel and nephew to Imrahil.

Standing closer to the grave were the Queens remaining family, her father, Prince Imrahil, and her brothers, the princes Elphir, Amrothos, and Erchirion. All bowed t heir heads as the procession passed by, ever slowly so as not to disturb the light burden.

Lastly, standing next to the open door of the simbelmyne covered funeral cairns, stood Eomer, dressed in black and gold, his face a rock, devoid of emotion as he held his infant son to his breast, wrapped in a thick woolen blanket against the cold. The only action betraying anything behind the mask were the few silent tears slowly falling from the corners of his eyes, quickly dried by the whipping winds.

As the pallbearers halted, to allow the family one last look, Eowyn stepped forward and began to sing, much as she had at Theodreds funeral two years before. Her voice wavered as she sang, in old Rohirric, nearly breaking until one of the ladies of the court came forth, adding her voice to the grim dirge.

"Du canne reotan se heo sy agaen

Me du canne ongrate be heo ae

Du canne dyttan ure heafodsien ond bensian heo edcierr

Me du canne aetynan heafodsien ond aeala a heo laf

Du heorte canne beon idlian be du aeala heo ne

Me du canne beo full sylfum eadlufu du dael

Du canne baec morgen ond aerendaeg

Me du canne beon eadwala for morgen be aerendaeg

Du canne hycgan hie ond heo sy agaen

Me du canne bedian heo gemynd ond ae on

Du canne cirm ond dyttan ure breost

Beon idlian ond baec

Me du canne nied heo behefau

Ongrate, aetynan heafodsien, eadlufu ond eorde

(you can shed tears that she is gone

Or you can smile because she has lived

You can close your eyes and pray that she returns

or you can open your eyes and see all that she left

your heart can be empty because you can't see her

or you can be full of the love that you shared

you can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday

or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday

you can remember her and only that she is gone

or you can cherish her memory and let it live on

you can cry and close your mind,

be empty and turn your back

or you can do what she would want,

smile, open your eyes, love and go on)

As the last line was sung, Eowyn slowly lowered herself to her knees, Faramir beside her, looking over the funeral bier, rearranging some of the gifts the children had left upon it, then leaned over and kissed her brother-wife's forehead before standing, and slowly staggered into the waiting arms of her betrothed.

Lothiriel's brothers came forth next, each knealing to the ground, pressing their lips on her hands and face. They stood, and Imrahil came forward, face red and wet, placing his hand upon his beloved only daughters cheek, before rising to go back to his place, putting a hand on his son-in-laws shoulder.

Lastly, Eomer came forward, his movements stiff and his bearing sunken, as he kneeled by his wifes side. Elfwine stirred in his arms, letting out a small cry as he was jarred by his fathers movements. Eomer rocked him, murmering something under his breath, and the infant quieted. Eomer leaned forward.

"This is your mother, little one. I wish you were old enough to remember her, her grace, her beauty, her kindness to all the world. Fate plays such cruel games to take her away from us so soon."

His voice broke then, and he could say no more. He dipped his head, placing a feather light kiss on his wifes cold lips, knowing it would be the last time. He stood, going back to stand beside Imrahil. Eowyn walked over, taking Elfwine from his father.

The six bier bearers lifted up their precious cargo, slowly placing her inside the barrow on a slab of rock that would forever be the queens resting place. They shut the stone door, the thunk of it latching was an echo of finality.

Lothiriel was gone.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

An hour later, the citizens had dispersed, going back to their homes and warm fires. Everyone but Eomer. He did not want to go home.

He did not want to go back to the hall where every room, every corner brought back a memory of before. He did not want to go to the place where he had met her, had laughed with her, the council room where they had begun rebuilding the realm, the warm bedchamber where they had made love on their wedding night and nearly every night after...

Eomer slumped forward, his chest heaving, touching his forhead to the stone door that would remain forever shut. He was alone now. He did not need to be the strong, imposing king that all expected him to be.

Tears came, unbidden, to his face, and he wept. He wept for her loss, he wept for the pain she had endured to give birth, but most of all, he wept for his son, who would never know his mothers gentle voice, her soft touch, how she had lifted the hearts of all who encountered her.

A wail rose in his throat, begging to be let free, but he bit his cheek, keeping his sounds low and mild. He wanted to be alone, he did not need his sounds of grief bringing anyone closer. Small cries fell from his lips, his shoulders shook and he fell against the cairn door, no longer able to hold himself upright. He stayed that way for a long time, quietly letting loose his unbearable grief.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

The sun was heading towards the western horizon when Eowyn walked into the main hall. She had changed into a more simple woolen gown to ward off the cold, her hair was a bit tangled from lying in her bed and staring at the ceiling.

A few other were in the hall, Faramir, Imrahil and his sons, and four other members of the court. Gamling was on guard duty by the door. He noticed her enter the room, gave her a small smile and a nod of the head, before standing at attention once more.

Eowyn was walking towards her in-laws when she noticed that Eomer was not among them.

"Faramir?" she questioned. Her betrothed looked up from the quiet conversation he had been having with his uncle.

"Have you seen my brother?" Faramir shook his head.

"Nay. He did not return with the townsfolk. He seemed to want to be alone, so we did not try to get him to leave." Eowyns eyes opened in shock.

"He is still out there? He will catch his death! It is the middle of winter!"

She ran towards the massive front doors of the hall, Gamling barely having time to open the door for her before she flew through the entryway, followed by Faramir and Imrahil.

"I should have thought of this." Imrahil stated as they hurried down the main road to the gate. "I don't remember half of what happened after your aunt left this earth." Faramir stopped walking and put a hand on the princes shoulder.

"You just lost your daughter, Uncle. No one is expecting you to be a prince right now. No one is in their right minds at the moment."

Imrahil nodded, his face passive. They turned and continued down the road. Eowyn was already far ahead of them, all but running out of the main gate towards the burial cairns.

By the time they had caught up to her, she had already found Eomer, slumped against the door of the tomb, his eyes glassy, staring ahead as if he saw nothing of the world around him. He was shaking from the cold, his teeth chattering. Small bits of windblown snow had fallen on his hair. Some had melted and then refrozen in the biting wind; small icicles hung from his damp locks, and his lips were blue, exhaling white puffs of steam into the winter air.

"Brother!" Eowyn was shouting, shaking his shoulders. He did not respond. "Eomer, please! Please get up! Faramir, help me! He does not hear me!"

Faramir knelt down, putting an arm around his betrothed, reaching with his other for the kings shoulder. "Eomer." he said gently, squeezing lightly with his fingers. The son of Eomund did not respond. "EOMER!" he shouted, fully into the mans face. Eomer jumped slightly, his eyes refocused and then came to rest on the pair in front of him. His face crumbled.

"Go away!" he said closing his eyes and turning his head to the side.

Imrahil had knelt down now too. "My son, it is too cold for you to remain here. The sun is setting. You must get warm."

"I do not want to!" was the petulant response.

"Eomer." he did not answer. "Eomer! Look at me! I know more than anyone here what you are going through. I held my own wife as she slipped away. I rule one of the richest cities in the west, but I could do nothing to stop it. Nothing!"

Eomers face crumbled again. He bent his head down and more tears fell, freezing on his face. Imrahil put a hand on the back of Eomers neck, making him look at him.

"There is nothing worse than feeling powerless to stop the decline of one whom you love. But you must, my son, you must."

"I do not wish to!"

"You may not wish to, but that does not stop the fact that you must. You have a kingdom to rule, people who need you, a son who needs his father."

"I care not."

"That I know is grief talking. Do you truly wish to leave your son? To take away his father as well as his mother? To never know the love of those that bore him?"

That struck a chord. Eomer looked one last time at the door of Lothiriels tomb, then reluctantly tried to stand. He had been sitting in the cold too long. His joints locked up and he fell to the side. Faramir caught him, lifting him up and supporting him over his shoulder. They slowly and painfully made their way back to Meduseld. Eowyn ran ahead.

She burst through the doors, looking for someone to help her. Most of the serving staff would be home by now, only a couple of maids and the cooks would still be here. She sighed, and began heading towards the kitchen to draw the hot water herself.

"Lady Eowyn?" a womans voice called from the side. Eowyn stopped and looked in the direction the voice had come from. It was Lady Maerdwyn, one of Lothiriels handmaidens and now governess for the infant prince. She and Eowyn had grown up together when Eowyns father and mother had died.

"Maerdwyn! Oh thank the gods! I need some help..." Maerdwyn held up a hand.

"I know, my lady. I have already taken care of it. There is a bath drawn, as well as fresh clothes and new linens on his bed." she gestured down the hallway, which was opposite the corridor with the royal bedchamber.

"His bed?" Eowyn questioned. Maerdwyn lowered her head.

"I thought he would prefer to be in a more familiar room, my lady. Away from the memories and some of the pain. At least for a little while."

"That was so thoughtful of you! I would never have thought of that..."

Maerdwyn smiled softly, "I would not expect any of you to have all of your heads on your shoulders right now. I know I did not after Beaor died. I was close to the queen, but not anywhere near as close as you and your brother. Let me help, my lady."

"Maerdwyn, I remember telling you not to use that 'my lady' nonsense with me when we are not in public."

"Tis a bit of habit then. I used it often with the que-" she stopped talking as the door opened. Imrahil and Faramir were supporting Eomer almost fully now. The kings feet were dragging on the floor.

"He needs to get warm now! He is barely breathing!" Imrahil puffed, almost wheezing from exertion.

Maerdwyn stepped forward. "Please bring him this way, my lords. I have a room prepared." and she nodded to Eowyn and swept off down the left-hand hall.

Faramir and his uncle half carried, half dragged their kinsman into the room Maerdwyn had opened. She indicated a chair sitting next to a steaming basin set in front of a roaring fire. They put him down and she immediately removed a blanket that had been hanging by the fire and wrapped him in it. She turned to them.

"Thank you, my lords. I'd not have been able to bring him in here myself. I can take it from here." The two lords looked at her skeptically. She scoffed.

"I have been serving this family since I was old enough to tie my shoes. I am the daughter of the Fourth Marshall and widow of the Fifth. You have grieving to do yourselves my lords. You need rest, so does the Lady Eowyn." she said, pointedly looking at Faramir to make sure he knew to get his beloved into her bed. He nodded his head. "Worry not. I will not be doing anything inappropriate." she shooed them out of the door and closed it.

Turning round, she found her king unmoved, still sitting exactly as he had been placed. Maerdwyn sighed quietly to herself, and set to work.

She started on his boots, which had a small coating of ice and hardened snow. Untying the laces, she removed them to reveal cold feet, wrinkled from being encased in the wet leather all day. His feet were pale and had a bluish tinge. She saw no blackened areas, however, and she sighed, relieved that frostbite hadn't yet taken hold. She took a smaller tub, placed his feet in it, and dipped hot water from the tub and slowly poured it into the basin.

Eomer hissed in pain, his first sound since being brought into the room, as the numbness from the cold was suddenly replaced with stinging needles. His eyes refocused for a moment and he looked down at the woman at his feet. She had looked up at him when he had moved, and she smiled slightly at him.

"It will only be for a few moments, Your Grace. The heat should help. You are lucky your toes are all sound."

She bent back to her task, using a cloth to soak up the hot water, and began to wash further up his calves. He hissed again as more heat returned to his extremities. Maerdwyn stopped, looking up at him again.

"Apologies, Your Grace, but it must be done."

"For goodness sake, Maerdwyn, we've known each other since we were children. Please stop with the formality."

"I am sorry. It has become habit for me."

He raised one brow, " Since when?" Maerdwyn smiled, dipping more hot water onto his legs.

"Since my marriage. Beaor was kind, but his family was very old fashioned."

Eomer scoffed. "I never liked Beaor. His entire lot was so stuffy I am surprised they didn't walk around with their heads embedded in their backsides."

Meardwyn giggled. "True. But nevertheless, he was kind. It was not much trouble on my part to start showing proper manners." Meardwyn hiked his trouser legs a little further, now washing as high as his knees. Eomer let out another hiss.

"Good gods, woman! That stings!"

"You did it to yourself, Eomer." she said, "You stayed out in the cold letting snow melt into every crevice you had."

"Now you sound like my mother. She would scold me for hours if I went outside improperly dressed for the weather."

Maerdwyn smiled. "I remember her. She was a kind woman, Lady Theodwyn. I still have a pair of mittens that she made me for the Midwinter feast. They no longer fit, obviously, but her craftsmanship was truly wonderful."

He nodded, then grew silent again, this time closing his eyes. She continued her ministrations, until every shiver had left his limbs. She gently lifted his feet from the basin, and dried them with a cloth. "Do you feel like you could stand?"

He nodded, then stood a bit stiffly, groaning as he did.

"Gods, that hurts." Maerdwyn nodded, then gestured at the tub.

"Do you think you are nimble enough to get in?"

"Not in front of you."

"No need to get indecent. Keep your under-breeches on."

"I am not going to bathe in front of you."

"This is not for bathing. You have been out in freezing weather from dawn to dusk. You will need more than a blanket and hot water on your feet to mend that." she pointed at the tub "Get in!"

He raised an eyebrow at the command. Her face went serious, "You told me to stop with the formalities, Eomer." she wagged the already pointing finger, "Now!"

"Yes, ma'am." he said mockingly. Her serious face did not move an inch. He sighed and let the blanket fall from his shoulders. At least talking with someone was keeping his mind off other, more melancholic thoughts.

He gasped as the blanket hit the floor and his damp clothes were exposed to the air. He started shivering almost instantly. He tried to get his tunic off, but his jittery fingers would have nothing to do with the many laces going up the front.

"Oh, come here!" came Maerdwyns voice from behind him. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders and she pivoted him around, making quick work of the laces and pulling the tunic over his head. She carefully folded it and placed it on a side table, turning back to him with her hands on her hips. "You do know that it is perfectly fine to ask for help when you need it?"

The corners of his mouth went up, not by much, but enough. "I am sorry, Maerdwyn. I am stubborn. You should know this by now."

"And yet I still try. Now, I am going to go to the kitchens and get you something to eat. You have not eaten a thing all day. When I get back, I want those damp outer trousers gone and you up to your neck in hot water. No arguing!" she said, poking a finger on his chest to emphasize her point.

She turned and walked out of the door, leaving Eomer alone. He did as he had been bid, removing his under tunic and trousers and stepping into the steaming bathwater in only his short under-trousers. The hot water felt good. He felt the warmth of it slowly begin to seep into his bones.

_I have not felt this good in days. _He thought,_ Not since... _he caught himself, remembering everything that had happened, his slightly improved mood plummeting again as he recalled everything that had happened, and what had begun it all...

_The day dawned bright, golden sunlight filtering in through the small eastward facing window. He was already awake, dressing in warm woolen clothes and thick leather boots. He would be going out today to meet with one of his advisers. _

_The man had a cold but was absolutely insistent on doing his duties. Eomer had tried to make him stay home, with his family, nursing hot soup and warm blankets with plenty of sleep. It was the middle of winter. No one would be going anywhere. But the evening before one of his children had come up to the Great Hall with a message from his father, saying he had worked out an idea for the rebuilding of the farming villages and towns that had been burned in the Westfold during the war. _

_Eomer had laughed out loud when he had received the note. Trust Hereweald to not listen to reason. He passed the note to his wife, who had laughed also. She had looked at him with such tenderness, such love. He had never felt happier in his life, and the feeling only intensified when she reached a hand down to gently rub her ever-growing belly, wherein a son or daughter of Rohan would soon make their appearance._

_She had told him to go. That Hereweald would not stop his pestering until Eomer had answered. He had written a return note saying that he would be there the following morning after daybreak._

_He finished tying his heavy boots, and grabbed a thick wool cloak with the white steed of Rohan sewn into the thick green cloth. He turned to look at his still sleeping wife. He smiled at the sight. She was dressed in a thin nightgown, sewn bigger than usual to accommodate her growing stomach. She was on her side, one arm under her cheek, breathing peacefully. The sun was just starting to shine on her._

_She was such a vision to him in the early morning light, he could not help himself. He walked over to their bed, leaning down to kiss her softly on her forehead. She stirred, opening up her sapphire eyes sleepily, and smiled when she saw him._

"_Hwaes sy hit, min easlufu?" she asked (what is it, my love?)_

_He smiled down at her. Lothiriel had studied Rohirric diligently since their betrothal. What subject would want a queen who could not speak their tongue, after all? She had worked so hard, and indeed had become so fluent that she sounded as one born in the Fold and not on the faraway coast of the Bay of Belfalas. He leaned in and kissed her lips._

"_Hit sy nanuht, min faeger cwen." he said (it is nothing, my beautiful wife)_

_She giggled. "Leasere!" (liar)_

"_Ic beon angilde poht gerad faeger du beon innan se aering scimrian."(I was only thinking how beautiful you are in the dawn sunlight)_

"_Ic easlufu du."(I love you) he smiled and kissed her again._

"_Ic easfulu du swa eade." (I love you as well)_

_She smiled again, sleepily, yawning and stretching under the fur blankets._

"_Ic beon framweard aet bisaec Herweald. Ic scolde beon carseld aer midnedaeg" (I am departing to visit Hereweald. I should be home before midday)_

"_Abeodan min easfulu. Ic bocriht aeala du scortlic." (Farewell my love. I will see you soon.)_

_He smiled again and quietly left the room. As he was closing the door, he looked inside one last time. Lothiriel was stretched out on the bed, sleepily gazing at him. He would never forget the sight of her, on the bed, surrounded by a halo of sunlight, bidding him farewell. _

_Little did he know it would be the last time he saw her in such a peaceful state._

Eomer gasped as his head slipped under the water. He had been so engrossed in his memories that he had begun sliding further in. He jerked upright, splashing a good deal of water on the floor. He gulped for air, and then his throat closed tight once more. He buried his face in his hands, reliving the final days of his wife's life in seconds, over and over again in his head.

He did not even notice when Maerdwyn crept back quietly into the room, bearing a small wooden tray with a bowl of thin soup, a hunk of bread and a mug of mead. She saw him, hunched over, his shoulders quaking as he silently vented his grief.

She set the tray down, walking over to the tub. She sat in the chair, and reached out her hand. She touched his arm and he jerked upright, looking at her but not seeing her.

When his eyes refocused, he looked at her, his face falling again into despair. He grabbed at her arm, and she got up, kneeling beside him, wrapping her arms around him. He gripped her fiercely, as if he had fallen down a cliff and she was the rope tossed down to save him.

He cried, as he had never done before, everything he had been feeling for days coming out in a single torrent of sorrow. He squeezed his eyes shut but tears came anyways, and he felt rather than heard the wailing scream that tore itself from his throat. Every emotion he had felt, sadness, anger, rage, betrayal, all burst forth like they had wills of their own.

And through it all, Maerdwyn simply held him, as his heart broke in a world that had already come tumbling down.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

A/N: I hope my first chapter was good. I am going to try and post a new chapter once a week, but I work full time plus have a household to run... so it may be every two weeks once in a while if I am busy or have a case of writers block.

Reviews are always welcome! I am trying my best, and have always wanted to write an Eomer fic (he's one of my favorite characters from LOTR). Though I must ask, please no flaming on changing the story from canon. I try to stick with it as much as possible, but this is fanfiction after all.

I am using an online translator for Rohirric. I have not been able to find an actual translator for Rohirric itself but I do know it was almost solely based on Old English, so I am using an Old English translator. I can only translate one word at a time, so if Old English had a different grammatical order for its phrasing and word placement I cannot do that. I am literally translating word for word.

Also, sometimes there are multiple words that come up as a single translation for a word I use (example, the modern English word 'well' ends up having about ten different translations, depending on whether it means "I am feeling well"/"I am getting water from the well"/ "Well, what do we do now?"/ etc.)

Sometimes there is no exact translation and I have to find a word that is similar but not exactly the same. Also, there are some words that have male/female versions (example, the love of a husband/wife, the love of a mother/father, the love of soldier comraderie, etc). I do the best as I can with the hopes that it makes the story more interesting.

And worry not, I won't be using Rohirric all the time, only when it adds a little something. I thought having Eomer and Lothiriel using it for a few lines was sweet, showing how hard she had worked to learn the language of her new people.

The funeral song sung by Eowyn is the song sung in 1959 for the passing of the Queen Mother in the UK. I thought it was appropriate for the death of a queen of Rohan, especially when they speak Old English!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – First Steps

Across the hall, Eomers wails echoed through the thick wooden walls as if they were made of parchment. Eowyn, lying in her bed with Faramir sitting beside her, put a hand to her mouth as a particularly high-pitched cry carried into the room.

Faramir reached over and gripped her hand. He could see her grief, and wished he could do more, but he did not quite know what to do. He had been so young when his mother had died, he did not even remember her face. And his father had belittled him so much until his end that he felt little remorse for his passing. He had experience only with the death of comrades, in the heat of battle, when lives were expected to be lost. He did not know how to contend with a sorrow like Eomers.

Eowyn gripped his hand, silent tears falling from her eyes. Faramir leaned forward and kissed her fingers. She looked up at him.

"What can we do?"

"I know not, darling. He seems to want to be alone. But we cannot let him do so. Not after today."

"I know, but-" she hesitated as another wail reverberated through the hall.

"But what?"

"Oh, I do not know. He will push us away again. It is what he has always done, ever since we were children! Ever since our mother and father died."

"Perhaps we could force him?"

"You know that would never work, Faramir. He is king. If he wants to be alone all he would need do is order guards to escort us away."

"Then what?"

"I do not know. Only two have I met that could pull him from his sour moods."

"Who?"

"Lothiriel and, Maerdwyn."

Faramir's brow shot upward. "The maid?"

It was Eowyns turned to raise a brow. "Maerdwyn is _not _a maid. She has been a member of the court since she was born. And she was my friend when Eomer and I had to come to Meduseld. For months she was the only one who would speak to either of us."

"Why?"

"We were new, from a different place. There were very few children at court. Those in the city were intimidated by our bloodline and name. Most noble children lived with their families on their estates. Maerdwyn was sent to Meduseld on the request of her father, Hrodgar. He was the Fourth Marshal. Some of the Wildmen tribes had been attacking outposts near his hold, and he wanted her out of danger."

"But those were quelled years before the War. Why did she stay?"

"Her mother came down with an illness the winter she came here. She died, and her father requested that she remain here as a ward. He claimed he did not have time to quell the raids and raise a child without her mother."

"He claimed?"

"I believe he wanted her to stay away. Hrodgar wanted no reminders of his wife, and Maerdwyn was a spitting image if her mother."

Faramir sighed. What a sad circumstance to be in for a child. He ran a hand over his face. He was getting tired. Eowyn smiled at him.

"You should get some sleep, my love. It has been a long day for everyone."

"I should. Will you be alright if I go to my room?" she giggled softly, and it brightened his heart to hear it. Her face had been clouded by grief for days. To hear such a carefree sound was a relief.

"It would hardly be proper for you to stay. We are not yet wed. Think of what people would say!"

"But Eomer..." Faramir paused, tilting his head to listen for more sounds coming from the chamber across the hall. Eowyn lifted her hand and stroked his cheek.

"I think he will be fine. Especially if Maerdwyn is there."

"I think it is inappropriate."

"Inappropriate or not, she is the one person right now who will be able to do anything. It has been so since we were young."

"How ever did they get so close? It seems strange for them to be as they are."

Eowyn sat up in the bed, looking at her betrothed curiously. "Whatever do you mean?"

"The way you describe them is almost how one would describe a husband and wife. And you said yourself that only she and Lothiriel were able to, how did you put it? 'Pull him from his sour moods'."

Eowyn sat silently for a few moments, deep in thought, before she answered. "We grew up together, Faramir. It was nearly as if Eomer and I had another sister. Her father was around so little, and her mother was gone before she could even remember her much. I know I do not. I was only seven when my mother died, and I barely remember her. Maerdwyn was only four!"

"I can understand that then, but they still seem to be on more friendly terms than one would find with a sibling."

Eowyn sighed, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. "There may have been a time when they did have feelings for one another, perhaps the budding of something more. When we had grown older, before Eomer became Third Marshal and Maerdwyn was all but forced into marriage. But that was long ago. Both drove any amorous feelings away for the sake of their realm and families. Eomer had his duties as Third Marshal, Grima had come to Rohan and Eomer was all but exiled for almost ten years trying to fight the encroaching enemies. Hrodgar wanted an alliance with the House of Beaor, and in his mind that meant a wedding. Maerdwyn had always fought for her fathers affections, he seldom visited and when he did he was curt and rude."

"She still agreed to the marriage? Why?"

"You of all people should understand. What if Denethor had asked you to wed a Gondorian nobles daughter? What if you believed it was the only way for you to gain any semblance of love or respect? To finally have that which had been denied to you for so long."

Faramir thought for a moment. "Luckily for me he did not, I would not have been able to follow my heart after I met you." He smiled at the blonde beauty in front of him, and she smiled back. "But I can understand. I would have done as he wished, even if it was only attempt to make him proud of me for once in his life."

"Then you do understand. Eomer was away from the capital, following reports of a raid in the Eastfold. Maerdwyn and I were left alone, the only young women in Meduseld. Hrodgar came one day. It was a surprise, there was no letter sent ahead as he usually did. He simply came through the doors of the Hall, and told Maerdwyn to pack her belongings. He had already signed the marriage contract with Beaor and Beaor's father, Aelfgar."

"That sound like a kidnapping to me."

"I thought so also, and begged her to stay. I could claim her as a ward of my uncle, which would give her father no right to her or her marriage, but she said no. She wanted him to be proud of her, to love her, and she told me to say nothing to him. So I did not. She left two days later. She came back to the capital a few times, for the Midwinter Feast and for Midsummer, but besides those scant times I did not see her again until a few weeks before Grima was cast out by Gandalf. Beaor had sent her back to Meduseld after some of his families villages had been burned by raiding Wildmen."

"And what happened to him?"

"He was felled at the Battle of Pelennor Fields. They found him on the field three days after the battle with a Haradrim arrow through his chest."

Faramir frowned. "Did they get along well? I have not heard anything about her being unhappy in the marriage."

"She was not unhappy, but she was not in love either. She told me as much the first time she visited after they were married. Beaor was kind, she said, and they got along well enough, but were never on more than friendly terms. That is also why she has no children."

"What? Did she never go to his bed?"

"She did. It was her wifely duty. But she did not love him. She went to his bed, but probably not as often as she would have if she had loved him the way a wife should love a husband."

Faramir frowned. "That must have been a hard burden. I could not imagine being wed to anyone but you."Eowyn smiled at his words. No one had ever made her feel more beautiful, or more wanted, than the man siting in front of her.

"But I still do not like the idea of her being in there with him right now. Especially if they have a prior history." Eowyn sighed.

"Please, Faramir. She is a good woman. She is only trying to help him."

"I know, but I was raised in a city where something like that would have been a scandal. Both of their reputations would have been tarnished. I do not know if it is different than Rohan, but it is how I was raised."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that it is inappropriate and wrong. The people here have less propriety."

Eowyn looked shocked, and a little angry. "Are you saying that the people of Rohan are lesser? That they have less poise than those of your white city?"

"No, I-"

"That is exactly what you are saying!" her cheeks were getting red with anger.

"No, beloved-"

"No! Do not 'beloved' me right now, Faramir of _Gondor_! You have just insulted my entire country! And me! Of all the times when propriety should not be an issue is now! My brothers wife is dead and a friend we have known since childhood is trying to help him! You surprise me!"

"It is not what I meant, Eowyn."

"It is exactly what you meant!"

"Eowyn, please..." he said, trying to reach out a hand to her. she backed away, her brows still furled.

"No. Do not touch me. Please leave."

He looked at her in shock. She was kicking him out?

She looked at him when he had not moved. "Get out. Now. I do not wish to speak to you right now."

"But-"

"No, Faramir. I need to think right now and you are not helping. Think about the words you have said, and think as well that if that is what you truly believe, then perhaps you do not want to marry into a family of such uncouth heathens."

Faramirs jaw dropped. He could not believe what he had just heard. Not marry him? Would she truly call their marriage off?

She was still glaring at him. He turned on his heel and left the room. He needed a drink.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Maerdwyn had not moved for almost an hour. She stayed, kneeling by the tub, the cloth of her dress wet from more than splashed water. Eomer had finally stopped, his shoulders were quivering, breath coming in ragged gasps and quick bursts.

He had not let go. He did not want to be alone. He did not want another night of sleepless nightmares, of feeling the empty sheets next to him. He felt like doing anything but crawling into the cold, vacant bed.

Through it all, Maerdwyn had said nothing, done nothing but hold him, occasionally rocking back and forth. She passed no judgment, only giving him what he needed.

After a while, even the shaking stopped, and his breathing somewhat returned to normal. She sat back, putting her hand into the water.

"Eomer." he looked at her, eyes slightly glassy, but it was a far cry better than the unfocused, nearly dead glance that had been there earlier. "The water is cooling. You need to get out and dry before you get cold again. We would not want to undo all the work we did getting you warm."

He nodded silently, then rose from the water and stepped from the tub. Maerdwyn grabbed several thick cloths, drying him with each one until not a drop of water was left. She tossed them by the door for the next days laundering, then quickly dressed him in a thick woolen robe that went all the way to the floor.

She sat him down in the chair by the fire, adding more wood until the hearth was blazing, emanating a wall of heat. She knelt down, and put thick stockings on each bare foot. Then she grabbed the food tray she had brought and laid it across his lap.

"Please try to eat something, Eomer. You will need your strength tomorrow."

Her words were kind, but her tone firm. Eomer just nodded again and picked up the spoon, sipping at the broth in the bowl.

As he ate, Maerdwyn went over to one of the dressers, opened up one of the drawers, and pulled forth a silver comb and a horsehair brush. Going back to the hearth, she carefully began brushing the thick tangles that the harsh winds had made. As she worked with one hand, she used the other to show the brush to Eomer.

"Do you remember this?" He eyed it. The red hair and polished wood handle glinted in the firelight.

"Yes. It was a birthday gift from my father when I turned five."

"Do you remember who it is made from?"

"I will never forget. My fathers warhorse, Gledtaegl (Embertail). He was a rare breed. My father had never been more proud of any of his mounts. Gledtaegl was black as soot, save his mane and tail. They were a red chestnut color, almost the color of flames."

"I remember when you old me the story. Though, I do not remember all of it."

"Geldtaigl was the fiercest battle steed my father ever fought with. He knew friend from foe and could kick and enemies head in with any hoof."

"I would not want to get in his way!"

"He would never have hurt you. That was why my father loved him so much. I remember him telling me a tale of when I was young. I was barely over a year old. I had begun to walk a few months before and I was curious of everything. One day, my mother had set me down to speak to one of the maids, and when she turned around, I was gone."

"Oh my. That must have given her a fright."

"Oh I did. She told me when I was older that she had never been more frightened in her life than when she did not know where I was."

"You were fast even as a babe! I remember, when we were children, you always won the races with the other boys on the training grounds."

Eomer chuckled, and Maerdwyn nearly stopped her brushing. She continued, trying not to show her shock that Eomer had actually laughed. It was a good first step. He stopped talking, tearing a chunk from the bread to dip into the broth.

"What happened?" she prompted, trying to get him to finish the story.

"She called my father and everyone in the house started looking for me. It was almost an hour before they found me."

"Where had you gotten off to?"

"I had gotten all the way through the house to the stables and into Gledtaegl's stall. Something about the color of his tail fascinated me, apparently. They found me sitting behind him yanking on it with all my might."

"Goodness! And he did not kick you?"

"That is the same thing everyone thought at the time. Gledtaegl was a smart steed. He knew I was a babe, and would not hurt him. After that I often found myself playing with him and his flaming tail. My father thought it was one of the most amusing things he had ever seen." He had finished eating the bread, sopping up the broth. He grabbed the mug of mead and started drinking.

"Did you not tell me once that your own steeds name comes from him?"

"Yes. Adfot (Firefoot) is Gledtaegls son. He has the same coloring, but on his hooves and lower legs instead of the tail." She stopped brushing, the tangles were gone and it had dried in the heat of the fire.

"And this brush?" she asked, holding up again.

"Made from Gledtaegl's mane after old age had caught up with him. I remember sitting up with my father the night his horse died. For my birthday, my father gave me the brush and then gave me Firefoot, who was Gledtaegls last offspring before he passed away. I had never been more excited in my life." He settled a little more comfortably in the chair and yawned.

"It must be. I never had my own steed. My father never thought to give me one."

"I remember. He ignored you for most of your life. He forgot your birthday more often than not." He looked angry for a moment and drained the mug of the rest of the mead. As soon as he sat the mug down he yawned again.

"But you and your sister and uncle never did."

"No we..." he yawned. "... did not..." He stopped. His eyelids felt heavy, and his muscles felt loose. He suddenly looked at her. "What did you do to my drink?" he yawned again.

"I just added a little something to help you sleep, Eomer."

"Why?" he asked, though whatever draught she had put in was effecting him more. "I... do... not... want... to... sleep..." he said, his words beginning to slur.

"But you need your rest, Eomer. I used this same mixture after Baeor was..." she stopped, knowing she did not need to go further in her explanation. Her face fell for a moment, then she looked back at him. "I used it because it keeps the dreams away. It brings a deep, dreamless sleep. I needed it, and so will you."

He smiled now. The effect of the sleeping draught almost made him look drunk. "Not.. angry... just... tell me... next time..." He tried to stand, but wobbled and fell back down. "Help?" he asked her, "Unless you... want me to... sleep... chair..."

"No, Eomer. I do not want you to sleep in the chair." She briskly walked over to the bed and turned down the fur blankets. She went back to him and helped him stand, one arm over her shoulder. They haphazardly stumbled to the bed, and he fell in, landing on his stomach and not moving. A moment later a faint snore rose from the pillow.

Maerdwyn tucked the blankets around him, and turned to leave.

"Maer... Maerdwyn." She turned to look at the bed. His eyes were closed but he was talking.

"Yes, Eomer?"

"You... always know... what... to do... always... feel better... after you..." he slurred, then stopped and opened his eyes, barely. "Th... Thank you... Maerdwyn..." his eyes closed again.

Maerdwyn smiled. Hopefully this rest would help him. He had not slept in three day. She dipped a quick curtsy at his sleeping form. "You are most welcome, Eomer." Then she turned and tiptoed out of the room.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Faramir was in the main hall. He did not much feel like sleeping, not after what he had heard. He had grabbed a mug of ale from one of the barrels already tapped. It had been left there, and the ale was beginning to go stale. It had been opened to celebrate the birth of a prince or princess, but after it became apparent that Lothiriel was very ill, no one had celebrated, and the barrels had gone untouched as the city mourned the imminent loss.

He did not care. Anything to help him sleep. The last weeks had been hard. Lothiriel was his cousin, but he had to be the strong one, for Eowyns sake. She had grieved as much as her brother. She was the one who had met Lothiriel, working hard in the Healing Houses of Minas Tirith. She had been the antithesis of what many would have expected from a woman of noble birth.

She had arrived at the city with her father and brothers, they had arrived at the fields of Pelennor after the Rohirrim, charging into the fray to aid their neighbors, and had helped to turn the tide of the battle. Lothiriel had gone into the city, and had been running around for days aiding the wounded, her fine dresses getting stained for the first few days before she changed into the same cloth as the other healers.

She had nearly run herself ragged, and she had earned the respect of many. Faramir had been visiting Eowyn one day. Lothiriel had been changing the bandages and splints of Eowyns broken arm when Eomer had come into the room to visit his sister. Faramir would never forget the way he halted in his steps, seeing the woman before him. She was beautiful, the elven lineage of her household apparent in her thin, lithe form, her dark hair, sapphire blue eyes, and her ears, which held a barely perceptible point. Many in Minas Tirith had called her the mortal equal of Arwen Undomiel, King Elessars elven bride.

Eomer wasted no time in visiting his sister more often, spending more time in her room than at the council meetings. Eowyn had known she was an excuse, the premise of caring for his siblings recovery as reason to visit and converse with her nurse. But Eowyn did not mind. It lifted her heart to see her brother smile so much, after more than a decade of war and watching their uncle slip further away under Grima's influence.

It was not long before Hereweald deduced what was going on. He took no time at all with insinuating himself within the social circles of the Dol Amrothians. He became fast friends with Prince Imrahil, and after that it was easy for the accomplished diplomat and advisor to let slip the growing affections between the Princes daughter and the new monarch of Rohan.

Prince Imrahil had been overjoyed, and before Eowyn was released from the Healing Houses to return home, a tentative marriage contract had been drawn up, settling the dowry and other points that always accompanied a political and noble wedding.

A year later, they had been married in Edoras, standing atop the great stairs leading up the hill to Meduseld where the residents of the entire city could watch the vows of the young couple. It had been a joy to watch, and made Faramir think of his own upcoming nuptials.

The happiness of the realm had increased tenfold when, three months after the royal wedding, Lothiriel announced that she was with child, and was praying to the gods every day for a healthy prince to carry on the third line of the House of Eorl.

It had seemed like heaven to everyone involved. The war was ended. A beautiful queen had become the new Lady of Rohan. Farms and villages were beginning to be rebuilt. A good harvest had been brought in in the fall, when Lothiriel was beginning to show around her middle. Peace had been attained, the king happily wed and an heir on the way.

_Who would have guessed _Faramir thought _that the gods would be so cruel. _He was angry, but it was difficult to figure out who or what he was angry with. He was angry that Lothiriel had been taken away, after all the hope she had brought, all the kindheartedness she had shown. He was angry at the gods for allowing it. _Not only do elves live forever and somehow never catch the illnesses of Men, but I have never heard of one who died in childbirth. _His mug was empty, and he rose to fill it again. He sat next the the keg, filling his mug three more times in an attempt to drink away the anger burning in his heart.

Needless to say, he was quite drunk when Maerdwyn came from Eomers room. She walked across the room, carrying an armload of linens towards the back of the hall where the kitchens and washing rooms were.

Faramir glared at her. This argument with Eowyn was her fault, and he did not like her familiarity with the king, and he was so angry then that anyone walking into the room, with the exceptions of Eowyn and her brother, would have been on the receiving end of his ire. But his anger about her was so strong now, and the half dozen mugs of alcohol had not helped, that Maerdwyn in particular was the worst person to have walked in the room.

Maerdwyn saw him sitting alone in the corner. She stopped walking, smiling at him a dipping a curtsy. "Is there anything I can do for you, my lord?"

Faramir growled at her. She looked confused for a moment and took a step back. "My lord?" she asked again.

"Oh, do not 'my lord' me, woman. Why are you coming out of the kings chamber at so inappropriate an hour?"

Maerdwyn was taken aback for a moment by his words. "You know very well why I was there. I was getting him warm and fed and I gave him a draught so he could sleep."

"I find that hard to believe. Keep him warm? Ha! How warm have you been keeping his bed? And for how long? Was it before or after he married my cousin?"

Maerdwyn was shocked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"You are saying that I am the kings mistress. That I warm his bed at night and have done so during his marriage to the Queen."

"Yes. That is exactly what I am saying."

Maerdwyn walked over next to him, and before he could say anything had backhanded him across the face.

"How dare you?" she interrogated. "You know nothing of this family or our history. I have been here since I was a child. Eomer is like a brother to me. I was a lady in waiting for your cousin! They slept in the same bedchamber! She would have noticed him leaving. I cared for both of them. Much more so than you."

He started to say something but she backhanded him again, this time spilling ale down the front of his shirt. " You are drunk. That is why I will forgive this insolence once. But only once, Lord Faramir. Remember. This is my place. I was born here and I will remain here for the rest of my days in service to this family. You are only a guest, and if you continue with this behavior, you will find your warm welcome revoked."

She pivoted on her feet and stalked away from him, leaving a very drunken Faramir with a stinging cheek and hurt pride.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3- Rough Morning

The next morning held a subdued tone as the residents of the mead hall awoke. The cooks, normally boisterous and joking as they prepared the foods for breakfast and the rest of the day, were silent as they kneaded their dough, cooked eggs and brewed tea.

Eowyn was the first awake, coming out to the main hall by the throne. The maids were walking around, putting platters of food on the tables and lighting the big hearths that lined the walls.

As she walked into the room, Eowyn noticed Maerdwyn coming out of the corridor where her room was located. The lady noticed Eowyn standing by the tables and smiled, walking over to her.

"How are you this morning, my friend?" she asked, taking Eowyn's hand in her own.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose. Yesterday ended on a foul note for me."

"What do you mean? The burial?"

"No. I learned something of Faramir last night most shocking. I sent him from my room with no farewell and no joy."

"Ah. So that is why he was drunk."

Eowyn looked shocked. "What do you mean he was drunk?"

"When I left Eomer's room last night, he was sitting by the kegs nursing what was probably his fifth or sixth mug. He was quite rude."

"Well, considering what we had spoken of, I am not surprised in the least."

"Do you wish to speak of it?" Maerdwyn questioned carefully.

"Well, I found out how lowly he thinks of Rohan and its people. He was rude about your behavior last night, he did not like you being in the room with my brother."

"Oh, believe me I know. He implied that I was keeping him warm in other ways besides a hot bath."

"What?!" Eowyn nearly shouted. "Oh that good for nothing son of a-" Maerdwyn stopped her, squeezing her hand.

"No, Eowyn, please do not say anything you will later regret. He was drunk, and he has been going through as much grief as everyone else. He is from a different country, a different people, and I am not surprised that his views are different. Besides," she added, a glint in her eyes, " I believe I got my point across to him, twice, with my own backhand. Say nothing if his face is still red this morning."

Eowyn gaped at her friend. "You did not!"

"I did. And he deserved both of them. But, hopefully, the point was made and he will not feel the need to say more. Please try to be forgiving, Eowyn. Things are said and done in moments of grief such as this that are not intended. He loves you with all his heart."

Eowyns eyes darkened, "Had you heard what he said last night you would not think so."

"I do think so, Eowyn. I can see in his face, in his eyes when he looks at you. You are his treasure, my friend, even if our culture clashes a bit with his own. He will come to terms with it by the time you marry. He will have to. But many things have been thrown at him in such a short space of days. Please think about it."

"I wish I could be as forgiving as you, Maerdwyn."

"I learned long ago that wroth breeds wroth. Keeping a grudge or trying to settle a score, or even trying to make someone happy who does not wish it in return, will only make your own life less enjoyable. I learned, but a bit late I believe." Her eyes looked sad for a moment, but she shook her head and smiled at her friend. " You have an entire life to live with the man you love. Do not let words from one evening mar the happiness for your future years."

Eowyn nodded, squeezing Maerdwyns hand and smiling. "You did not learn too late. There is still hope for a happy future for you as well."

Maerdwyn smiled sadly. "I do not think so. It is too late now for anything that may have been. I burned that bridge long ago when I married Beaor. I did it to make my father happy, but not for me. Now my father is dead, killed at the Battle of the Fords, and my husband is gone along with his entire line. I told myself when it happened that I would not put myself into such a position again."

"But surely, you can try."

"Eowyn, I have nothing left anymore. My title was through my father, I am his only child, he had no other heirs. Soon enough another Fourth Marshal will be named and I will be noble in name only. I have no lands, no hold, no fortune, and no family left aside from you and your brother. That is why I chose to remain here at Meduseld. I will care for my family until time sees fit to end it."

Eowyn looked sad. "I sincerely wish otherwise, my dear Maerdwyn. You deserve some happiness after what fate has thrown in your road."

"If it comes, it comes, but I will not actively seek it. It is not a thing that I much desire, not after a fruitless marriage and years of war. That hope was buried a long time ago." She stopped, looking at Eowyn. "Now, white lady, you need breakfast. Please do not do as your brother and eat nothing all day. I speak from experience when I say it does nothing to help." She smiled sadly, then turned and walked towards the washing rooms in the back of the hall.

Eowyn went to sit down, and was just grabbing a bowl to help herself to a serving of hot porridge, when she looked towards the throne. Lothiriels chair was still there. Eowyn jumped up from the bench and walked towards it, motioning to one of the older, motherly serving maids, Haiwen, to help her.

"The queens throne is still here, we cannot have the king awaken to see it here. It would be too much for him. Help me move it!"

Haiwen nodded, and together the two of them maneuvered the ornate chair into one of the back rooms used primarily for storage for extra furniture, tables and benches used for when there were feasts or celebrations.

"Thank you, Haiwen. I do not know what the king would have done if had he seen it."

"Twas' no problem, my lady. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No. I am perfectly capable of serving myself breakfast, but thank you."

Haiwen dipped a curtsy and went back to collecting the used and dirty dishes that had already been used. Balancing the heavy tray, she skillfully maneuvered back to the kitchen.

Eowyn finished filling her bowl with warm porridge, poured herself a mug of steaming herbal tea, and sat down to eat.

She was not halfway through when Faramir stumbled from the guest hall. He looked quite hungover and, though dressed, was a bit lopsided and harried looking. He started to move towards the large central table, but stopped when he saw Eowyn. He looked embarrassed for a moment, then slowly began turning away. It was obvious that he thought the White Lady of Rohan wanted nothing to do with him.

Eowyns first reaction had been angry, a flare of the temper that the fair-haired noblewoman was known for. But she quickly quelled the urge to slap him, remembering Maerdwyn's words.

"Faramir." She called softly to him. He turned back round, looking at her for a moment before his gaze dropped to the ground in front of him.

"Please, sit with me." She said, patting her hand on the bench. Faramir looked at once relieved and worried. Was she calling him over to speak kindly, or to reprimand him again?

He walked over towards the table, a tad slow, unsure of her motivations.

"Please, Faramir, I am not going to bite your head off!"

"You certainly did last night."

"And now I am trying to make amends with you. If you will not even allow me a moment of time then nothing can be accomplished. Please?"

He did not say anything, but he did sit down, moaning as his head gave a particularly painful throb.

"I heard hat you indulged a bit in the barrels last night."

"Did Maerdwyn tell you that?" he looked sheepish for a moment, and Eowyn remembered her promise to say nothing of his words or of Maerdwyn's following actions.

"She simply said she hoped hat you were feeling better. She said she saw you sitting here nursing a mug when she came through to go to bed."

Faramir looked at her suspiciously for a few seconds, but said no more. If Eowyn knew but was not going to broach the subject, then neither would he.

"I did drink. A lot. I was angry, after everything that happened yesterday, and your parting words did not help."

"I may have been a bit too rash, Faramir, but can you see how your words could have seemed to someone else? From a different view from your own?"

"I can, and I apologize, But I was raised differently, Eowyn. Differently from you, from your brother, from everyone here. I cannot help it. I am trying to-" he was interrupted by Maerdwyn, who had come to the table bearing a steaming mug. She held it out to him.

"A morning-after decoction, my lord." she said, "I had the healer brew it fresh just now."

Faramir took it, wincing at the strong smell that wafted from it. "What is in it? It smells atrocious."

Maerdwyn giggled politely. "It is willow bark from the grove near the Snowborn, with some yarrow from Meduseld's herb garden. It might taste foul but if you have a headache it is the best remedy there is.." she dipped a curtsy. "My lord." and she turned and left.

Faramir took a sip, and promptly scrunched up his face. Eowyn began to laugh.

"You look like a child made to eat his vegetables!" she giggled more, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Laugh all you want, if this makes my head feel better I do not care what is in it."

Eowyn laughed again, then Faramir, seeing her smile for the first time in what seemed like forever, began to laugh himself. He took the mug, and quickly downed the loathsome brew, and Eowyn laughed all the harder.

He made a face, but managed to swallow the whole lot of it without gagging. Eowyn continued laughing at his face. For a split second her eyes met his, and he leaned forward and kissed her. It was not a long kiss, and he kept it chaste, but he did it anyway.

He leaned back, looking at her. "I am sorry, beloved. I -" Eowyn stopped him with a finger on his lips, then kissed him again.

"Faramir, we love each other, but we are from different people. If our marriage is to work at all, we both, myself included, be willing to accept the other. There may be things about you or your manner that I do not quite agree with, but it is a part of who you are. And I love you."

He looked at her, smiling now. "I do not truly think that those of Rohan are less. It just... everyone is so different here, so far from my homeland."

"I understand, my dear, but it seems I am going to need more accustoming that you."

"What do you mean?"

"You are not staying here in Rohan once we are wed. You will only have to be around Rohan and its barbarous," she grinned at that word, "customs when we visit. I, however, will be going with you to Ithilien. That will be the bigger change. You will get to be surrounded by your Gondorian friends and I will look far to the northwest to catch but a glimpse of my birthplace."

"Do you not want to?" Faramir asked, sounding almost frightened for a moment.

"No, I do, but it will be very strange for me. I barely spent time with the locals in Gondor. Most of my time before I left to come home was spent in the Houses of Healing, and with you."

"Well, we will have to make a change then. Ithilien has been largely unpopulated in the last decades, what with the Enemy right next door and orcish raiding parties. But now that they are gone more people will be making there home there. It is not called the Garden of Gondor for nothing."

"What are you saying?" Faramir stopped talking for a moment, lost in thought. He still looked contemplative when he answered her.

"I am saying that we should let anyone who wishes to live there do so, be it from Gondor, or Rohan, or even farther up north where King Elessars had his Grey Company of rangers."

Eowyn's eyes opened in shock. "You would do that? Why?"

"For you. And it would be a good step to the future to have an country in Arda where people from anywhere can come to live, regardless of their origins. Even those from Khand or Harad if they wished it and did not cause any trouble. Ever since your brother and Elessar went on campaign against them they have been more willing to create peaceful ties with the rest of the world."

Eowyn eyes glittered with unshed, happy tears. "I think that is a wonderful idea! But would Aragorn agree?"

"Why would he not? It is a good idea. But I actually thought of it because if we did this then you would undoubtedly have some countrymen move to Ithilien. You would not be on your own with no one but Gondorians around you. Although I will not say that to Elessar. The peaceful mixing of cultures seems like a better political point."

"Yes it does. But I will know your secret." and she smiled at him. He smiled back, and leaned in closer to pull her into an embrace.

"Am I forgiven, beloved?" he asked as he touched his forehead to hers. She giggled.

"Yes, darling. I am sorry that I became angry with you."

Faramir smiled, and kissed her.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Maerdwyn smiled from her vantage point in the hall as Faramir leaned over and kissed his betrothed. _At least they had made good between them _she thought. She turned back around and went into the kitchens. She picked up a tray and went about picking out a few different things; a small bowl of boiled oats, an apple, and a mug of very strong _echui_, a drink brought by the elves.

_Echui_ was one of the items they had begun trading after the War, made from a few spices, mainly cinnamon and cloves from Rhun, as well as the ground roasted nuts of a tree that grew in the northern woods of Greenwood. Now that most of the orcs and giant spiders were gone, harvesting the forests bounty was much easier and more plentiful, leaving much for trade. Its name was Sindarin, and roughly translated to "awakening", which is exactly what it did. After the sleeping draught the night before, Eomer would have need of a strong cup.

She walked out of the kitchen bearing the tray, and went to the room where she had put the king to sleep the night before. She knocked quietly. There was no answer. She was about to knock again, harder, when one of Eomers advisers walked up behind her.

"Can I help you, Lord Leofdaeg?" she whispered.

"I am sorry to bother you, Lady Maerdwyn, but there was a matter I wanted to discuss with the King."

"Is it a life or death circumstance?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then I am sure it can wait."

"But it is about the spring planting. We need to discuss what the farmers should plant for the coming year. The plans must be done soon so we can have missives sent out to the villages."

"The queen was buried less than a day ago, and you wish to speak to the king of planting? That is the last thing he needs!"

"I understand that, my lady. But it was planned to be discussed two weeks ago, and then was put off due to the queen being near her time. Spring will be upon us soon, and we need the plans done within the next few days to ensure that all of the messengers will get to even the outlying villages."

"Not today. As I said, it is the last thing he needs!"

"But-"

"No buts, my lord! I am sorry, but he needs his time to heal. If you want, I will come and discuss the plans with you in an hour or so."

"My lady, I do not know if you would have all the proper knowledge to-"

"I grew up in the southern parts of the East Emnet. That is where nearly three quarters of our crops are grown between the convergence of the Entwash and the Anduin. I learned a thing or two about farming."

"But you already have much to do my lady."

"But if my aide will keep you off the kings backside for a few more days I am more than willing. Have you dealt with grief before, my lord?"

Leofdaeg looked sheepish for a moment. "I have been lucky in that regard, my lady. My wife and all of my children live still."

"Then you know nothing of it. I lost my mother when I was four, and my father and husband within months of each other. Please believe me when I say, there is no way in Mordor that you are getting to speak with him today, even if I have to stand guard at the door. Let him rest and leave him be."

Leofdaeg bowed. "As you wish, my lady. I will be waiting with Hereweald in the kings study."

Maerdwyn inclined her head. "I will see you in an hour, counselor." He bowed his own head and left. She scoffed silently to herself, then turned and went into the bedroom.

She walked quietly into the room. She put the tray down and walked over to the hearth. A few embers were left, she raked the ashes to the side and built up the flames with a few chunks of wood.

"I heard you, you know."

Maerdwyn turned quickly, looking at the bed. Eomer was awake, barely. His eyes were slits, and he groaned as he sat up and leaned against the pillows.

"I was trying to be quiet, Eomer. I did not want to wake you."

"I was already awake. But thank you. Remind me to never get on your bad side. With you guarding my door I would have been the safest man in the Mark."

Maerdwyn smiled. If he was feeling well enough to joke, then perhaps there was hope for him to recover from the horrible events of the past few days.

"You need rest and some minor solitude."

"Minor solitude?"

"Well, you need some alone time but not completely alone. We would not want a repeat of last night."

"No. Getting the heat back into my bones was painful enough once. I do not want a repeat."

She smiled again. "I brought you some breakfast. How did you sleep?"

He sobered at the question. "I slept with no dreams at all. Whatever you had in that drink certainly worked well."

"It was chamomile, vervain and datura thorn apple. I can have it made for you every evening for a while, if you want it."

"I will keep that in mind. Though my head almost feels like I got drunk last night"

Maerdwyn got up from the fireplace, grabbing the tray and bringing it over to the bed. "That is why I brought you a nice big cup of _echui_. It will help with the aftereffects of the sleeping draught."

Eomer grabbed the steaming cup, blew at it for a moment, and took a healthy sip. "Ah. I am glad Legolas' folk decided to begin trading in this. I used to be so groggy in the mornings."

Maerdwyn laughed. "I remember. Sometimes it took Theodred or your uncle pounding on the door and threatening you with treason to get you out of bed."

Eomer smiled, "Yes, I took a long while for me to be able to get up with the sun. And once I was with an _eored _I had to learn. I was never a morning person though."

"Well, if you finish that cup they have a whole cauldron of it in the kitchens."

"You are going to met Leofdaeg? You know you do not have to do this, Maerdwyn."

"I know. But I know better than your two advisers what is needed right now. And I am head of the household anyways. If I say no, they know I mean it."

"You always meant what you said, even when we were younger. We could not keep you from sneaking off to the stables and training grounds dressed as a boy so you could train. I remember you saying that no one was going to stop you if you wanted to learn. You were a bad influence on my sister." he grinned slightly.

"And if I had not persuaded her to sneak off with me she would never have become Lady of the Shield Arm. You see? I do know what I am doing."

She smiled at him, leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "You eat now. All of it. You need it if you want to do anything today. I have to go."

She turned and walked to the door.

"Maerdwyn?" Eomer called after her. She looked at him.

"Yes?"

"Again. Thank you. If you had not been there, I think they would have found me frozen to death this morning. If not for you, my son would have no father as well as no mother."

"You are my friend, Eomer. King or not, we were friends long before. I want to help you. And I did not bring you in. Your sister, Faramir and Imrahil did. I only had the bath ready."

"And a shoulder, and a sense of calm that I did not feel myself at the time. I still wish to thank you."

"Then you are welcome, Eomer." She went through the door, but a moment later her head poked around the corner. Eomer looked up at her.

She smiled at him. "Please eat, Eomer. You need your strength. Now, I am going to go make sure that that wheat and barley are planted in the same places they have been for the last five hundred years."

Eomer snorted, then turned to his breakfast, taking another long drink of the _echui _as Maerdwyn closed the door.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Maerdwyn smiled as she closed the door and made her way to the study. Eomer had laughed. _Laughed_! She hoped it was a sign that he was on his way to recovery. She had gone through her own grief alone, with everyone she knew and cared about either dead on the fields of Pelennor or in Minas Tirith, while she was far away in Meduseld. She hoped, with herself, Eowyn, Imrahil and everyone else there for him, that it would be easier for her king.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – New Seasons

A couple of months later, spring was on its way. The harsh winds and drifts of snow began to disappear, little green shoots of grasses and herbs began sprouting on the plains, and the sun seemed warmer and stayed out longer. Inside Meduseld, things seemed to be on the mend, but compared to the waxing season it was slower going.

Eomer had finally come out of his room, a few days after the burial. He had looked haggard, after many days of sleeping potions and medicines to help him sleep without nightmares. But after almost a week had passed, he had begun to feel better. He had known that something must be improving, for he actually craved a conversation with someone, anyone, instead of the solitude of an empty room.

Part of the reason why was Maerdwyn, who had finally come in the room on the fourth morning of his self-imposed isolation, bearing with her the infant Elfwine. She had laid him carefully in his fathers arms, while a bewildered looking Eomer had looked down upon his son, unsure of what next to do.

Elfwine was the perfect baby. He rarely cried, his eyes, while still unfocused, were intensely curious of the world around him. When Eomer had looked down at his son, barely a week old, a lock of hair had fallen over his shoulder and into the babes face. Elfwine had reached a chubby hand forward when the strands had drifted across his nose, grabbed a handful and yanked with all his baby might.

Eomer's head had jerked forward, and an audible "Oooof!" from his lips had made Elfwine giggle in delight. Eomer had stopped moving, looking at his laughing son, and the biggest smile Maerdwyn had seen in days cracked his face almost in two. He had brought his son to his shoulder, caressing him and murmuring something she could not understand into Elfwines ear. Elfwine had cooed and giggled and yanked on his hair some more before Maerdwyn had taken him away from his father to take him to his wetnurse.

That afternoon Eomer emerged for the first time, looking tired, but trying to put a brave face on for the sake of those others in the mead hall, walking by a few people, trying to smile. Everyone treated him with much more sympathy than before. They talked more quietly, and more than once someone had stopped the conversation altogether, when they realized it was going in an unpleasant direction, usually something to do with the queen.

Eomer found that he did not like it. To be treated and spoken to like he was a piece of glass about to fall over the edge of a table. His stubborn streak, akin to his sisters, rebelled against the behavior of his fellows, and he vowed to himself, in the quiet, lonesome hours of the night, that he would prove them wrong. He was not weak. He had loved his wife, yes, and he would miss forever her presence at his side, but he had a son and a people who needed him.

After he had made the oath, he had begun to wonder if this was how his uncle had felt when Elfhild, Theodens wife and the previous queen of Rohan had also perished before her time. Theoden had always been an inspiration to Eomer, a truly good and godly king whose subjects loved him for his deeds and actions, and not just because he had inherited a crown and title. Even after Grimas influence, the people had loved Theoden. Eomer planned to emulate him in every way possible. If Theoden could continue on, then so could he. Eomer only wished he would not have to see Elfwine killed as a young man, as with what had happened to Theodred.

As the spring days grew ever warmer, Eomer began to feel his spirits lift. There was a constant ache, somewhere deep in his chest, that he knew he would never be rid of, but he began to perform his duties much as he had before. The spring and summer planting schedules had been finished, thanks to Maerdwyn's help, and everywhere around Edoras all the way to the horizon one could see the seedlings sprouting from the fields, a rich and bright spring green that waved in the western winds.

Soon enough those seedlings would no longer bend in the wind, but would sink towards the ground as barley, wheat, oat and rye grain grew ripe and heavy. Grains and hay were the chief exported product of Rohan. They grew other things of course, apples, pears, other fruits and vegetables, but never enough for trade. Those were for only local use. In all other realms Rohan was known for two things in trade; horses and the grains used to feed them.

It was a point of pride for every Rohirrim. They were an equinary culture, more than a dozen generations stretching back to the crowning of Eorl and beyond, born and bred on horseback. There was an old Rohirric saying, 'A eored warrior is more naked without his steed than his sword' and it was true for many. It made sense that their chief agricultural product was one that benefited their mounts as well as them.

Eowyn and Faramir had left as soon as the heavy spring rains, and thus the threat of floods, had subsided. They were to dwell in Minas Tirith until early autumn, when they and half the courts of Rohan and Gondor would journey to the nearly finished town of Greenhills in Ithilien to attend their nuptials. It would also give Eowyn time to become more accustomed to Gondorian culture and etiquette.

Eomer had promised to attend. He would not miss his sisters wedding, and he had only seen Ithilien in passing when he had ridden through it towards the Battle of Morannon. He thought it would be nice to be able to see and explore it for a few weeks without the constant threat of war that had been in the air back then.

He began spending more time outdoors, oftentimes holding his council meetings out in the gardens behind the mead hall. Outwardly the reasoning was due to the beautiful spring weather, though most knew it was because of the times his wife had accompanied him into the council chamber to aide in the handling of matters of state. But no one said anything. The nice springtime air was enjoyable to be in, even if one had tedious scribe work and planning to do.

After a few months, when summer had come through full swing, it was far too hot outside for the meetings. Eomer reluctantly began holding them in the council chamber again, though he had Lothiriels chair removed from the room. He found that he could manage it, though he was not always in the best of moods when the daily meetings broke up.

When one of his sour moods came about, he spent much of his free time with his men on the training grounds just outside of the city walls. Sword, shield, spear, bow, he trained in them all and gave grueling duels and lessons to the other men and boys. It was often when he would come back to Meduseld after dusk, covered in sweat and dust, with barely enough energy to bathe and fall into bed.

He liked it that way. The more tired he was, the more deeply he slept, without dreams or need of the sleeping draught. He did not like the way the medicine made his head feel in the mornings, and soon after his reemergence into court he had ceased consuming it.

If his moods could not be quelled through training or wrestling with his soldiers, he would ride out onto the plains on Firefoot. Sometimes he would take little Elfwine with him, in a specially made leather carrying bag designed to be tied around the neck and waist to hang in the front. His son loved going riding with his father, and his little squeals of excitement always made an improvement to Eomers mood.

Sometimes Maerdwyn would join the two of them and the royal guard, in case Eomer wanted to be gone a long time and Elfwine needed feeding or changing. That was one aspect of parentage that Eomer was glad to leave to others. Blood and gore from battle he could handle, but if he could avoid baby spit-up and fouled diapers, he did so, to everyone else's amusement.

It was midsummer, halfway through June, when Eomer was nearly run into by an ecstatic Maerdwyn as she rushed from the nursery into the main room of the great hall. He caught her by the shoulder and kept her from fully colliding with him.

"By the gods, Maerdwyn, what has you rushing about like a Meara?"

She was excited, he could tell, but did not know what about. She reached out and grabbed his hand and all but dragged him towards the nursery.

"Maerdwyn, what is it? Is something wrong? What happened?" He felt a moments panic as a thought bloomed in his head that something had happened to Elfwine.

"Oh just come on, Eomer!" She said excitedly "I would not be smiling if something bad had happened!"

"Then why will you not tell me?" He asked, nearly tripping as his boot caught on the edge of a rug.

"Because!" She replied "This is something you need to SEE. I would do the event no justice if I just told you!"

Eomer sighed, but had to smile despite himself. Maerdwyn had gone above and beyond when it came to Elfwine, and for all the young babe knew, she was his mother. She changed him, bathed him, and fed him now that he was eating some more solid foods. She beamed as proud as any dam would at the accomplishments of her child.

Maerdwyn dragged him the rest of the way, and he was careful to avoid more rugs. They got to the door and she finally slowed down. She tiptoed to the door, then turned and whispered.

"Be very quiet when we enter. If he notices someone watching him he stops."

"Stops doing what?" He asked, but she only smiled and shook her head and nodded her head at the door.

"You will have to see, Eomer." And she quietly opened the door. Eomer peeked his head in, and he smiled in delight when he saw his son.

Elfwine was on the floor, but he was holding himself upright on all fours, precariously walking forward across the thick carpet of the nursery. He would wobble for a few seconds and then, when he had his balance, he would take off in a straight line on the fur carpet until one of the four limbs lost balance and he would tumble a few inches to the fluffy floor. He would then sit up, laughing his little baby giggle, and try the same maneuver again in a different direction.

Maerdwyn popped her head in a little under Eomers, and beamed up at him after Elfwines third crawling streak. They watched the small baby, both smiling until Eomer could not be silent anymore. He burst out laughing, followed by Maerdwyn, and Elfwine started, falling back on his rump. Eomer stepped into the room, leaving a laughing Maerdwyn in the doorway. He lifted his son into his arms, and Elfwine laughed as he recognized his father.

"Oh, my son! Look at you!" He bounced Elfwine up and down, and the babe continued to giggle. He reached out and grabbed a lock of his fathers hair, and yanked on it, then tried to put it in his mouth. Eomer laughed and pulled it away, tossing the hair behind his shoulder.

"No, son. My hair is not something to eat." Elfwine screamed happily, a high pitched squeal that showed his delight at seeing his father. He looked up at Eomer when the hair was suddenly gone.

"Papa!" He shouted.

Eomers face nearly broke as he looked in shock at his son.

"What did you say, Elfwine?" The babe looked up at him.

"Papa!" He said proudly.

"Maerdwyn!" Eomer said excitedly, and she came into the room from the doorway.

"He called me papa!"

"I believe it is his first word, Eomer. Up until now he has only been saying little nonsense words."

Eomer looked at her and smiled. "His first word! Oh thank you, Maerdwyn! If you hadn't brought me here I would have missed it!"

Maerdwyn smiled, and reached over to hug him and Elfwine, kissing the child on the forehead. He looked up at her, reaching out a chubby hand.

"Mama!"

Eomers face fell. His eyes shut for a moment as he tried not to look sad in front of his son. Maerdwyn looked at him apologetically, then glanced back at Elfwine.

"No, little prince. My name is Maerdwyn."

Elfwine looked at her, confused. "Mama?" He said again.

"No, Elfwine. Maerdwyn. Mare-dwin." She said her name slowly so he could hear how it was said.

"Mer-" he started, moving his mouth to imitate hers. "Mer-din?"

"Yes!" Maerdwyn said. Elfwine shook his head no, then reached for her again. "Mama!"

"Elfwine, no-"

"Maerdwyn, it is alright."

She stopped and looked at Eomer. "But I am not... It would not be proper..."

"You have been taking care of him every day since he was born. He will never know his mother but from stories we tell. I think it would be better if he had someone who could be as a mother to him." He looked sad, but serious of his words.

"But you." Maerdwyn said. "It would cause you too much pain. I could not..."

"Maerdwyn, he needs a mother too. And I cannot think of one more suited to the task than you. He should know a mothers love, and that is a thing that I cannot give him."

Maerdwyn's eyes grew wet, and she nodded silently. Then she reached over and took Elfwine from his fathers arms and hugged him. He put his chubby arms around her neck, and pressed his cheek to hers.

"Mama." He whispered quietly into her hair.

"Yes, Elfwine." She said, her voice trembling. "Mama."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

After his first crawling streak, Elfwine was unstoppable. Maerdwyn or one of the maids had to be with him constantly, else he would get himself into all types of mischief. By the time August had arrived, he was pulling himself upright with benches and tables and taking his first steps.

Eomer beamed with pride one day when he walked into the throne room. Elfwine was sitting on the steps leading up to the throne, playing with Maerdwyn, and he had looked up and seen his father.

"Papa!" He cried, standing and gripping Maerdwyns shoulder to stay up. His vocabulary had only improved a little bit, but 'papa' was his favorite because every time he said it Eomer would get very happy.

"Hello, my darling boy!" Eomer had replied, walking towards the end of the room.

"Papa!" Elfwine cried again, and so eager was he to see his father that he took a step away from Maerdwyn, letting go of her shoulder. She gasped as he let go, hoping he would not fall and hurt himself on the hard stone floor.

Elfwine took a few wobbly steps, arms outstretched towards his father. Eomer saw, and walked a few steps closer so that he was within a few feet of his son. He squatted down so he was eye level and reached out.

"Can you come to me, Elfwine?" He asked, gesturing with his hand, beckoning him to come closer, trying not to get too excited. He did not want to startle Elfwine into falling.

Elfwine saw this, and stepped closer, slowly, every step timid and wobbly. But he persevered, and crossed the four or five feet to his father, who swept him up into a big hug.

"Your first steps! Oh, my son I am so proud of you!" Eomer said, leaning in to give Elfwine a kiss on the cheek. Elfwine giggled and wrapped his arms around Eomers neck. Eomer spun him around in a circle, causing the boy to squeal with delight.

Maerdwyn rushed over, hugging both of them and kissing Elfwine on his forehead. "Oh you worried me, little prince! I thought you were going to fall!"

"But he did not!" Eomer said, full of pride at his son. He hugged them both, kissing his son again.

"Papa! Mama!" Elfwine shouted, he was full of excitement because of their reactions though he did not know why.

Eomer looked down at the woman, whose full attention was on Elfwine. Her cheeks were bright, and her eyes sparkled with pride as she looked at him.

She is as proud as any mother would be he thought, and smiled at the two in front of him. Maerdwyn had always been there for him, even when they were young. She had always been the one he or Eowyn could talk to, about anything. Especially when they had first come to Meduseld.

There had been no other children in the hall when they had first arrived. Theodred was already twenty four, done with his warrior training and had just been given the position of Second Marshal. There were no longer any nursemaids or governesses employed in the hall.

Maerdwyn had been there, she was five years old and kept to herself most of the time. She had a maid, and a tutor, but not really any friends in the big dwelling of the king. She had been very kind to both siblings, and soon enough the three were fast friends. There had been no other children in the manor of Lord Eomund either, and it was a nice experience for all of them to have someone around their own age.

It was not long before Maerdwyn and Eowyn had begun sneaking out dressed as boys to play with the other children, and a few years after that when they tried to train with the other youngsters at the practice fields.

They were caught, of course. One day Eowyn's little helmet had been knocked off by a blow from a wooden practice sword, and her long golden hair had tumbled out. Maerdwyn had rushed over to see if Eowyn had been hurt, taking off her own helmet and revealing herself as well. Hama, another Marshal and the soldier in charge of training, had marched them both back up to Meduseld, and Theoden had given them a stern lecture about sneaking about.

They had both pleaded with him, wanting to learn how to fight, idolizing the tales of the shield-maidens of their country. In the end, Theoden had relented, allowing them to train. But as punishment for sneaking off he had made them both wait more than a year, until Eowyn was twelve and Maerdwyn ten years old, before they could go back to the training field.

They had accepted the punishment. They had known that sneaking out would come back to them eventually, but they stoically bore the brunt of Theodens temper, because they would be allowed to train, and they knew any attitude on their parts would make the year-long wait even longer.

And when the year was over, less than a day after Eowyn's birthday, they had taken to it like fish to water. While they were smaller and slighter than most of their male companions, they held their own. When the other boys had been unwilling to fight them, they had goaded them relentlessly until they did.

Oftentimes the residents of Meduseld would be roused early in the morning by the sound of the two girls banging and clashing their wooden training swords in the garden, too eager to wait for noontime when their fellows met in the training field.

Eomer smiled as he remembered. When they had finally begun to grow into their womanhood, their fellow trainees had been even more reluctant to duel them. No one wanted to be the cause of an unsightly scar or disfigurement to either of the wards of the king, who were growing more beautiful by the day.

They had almost been as twins, both tall and golden-haired with fair complexions, though there were differences. Maerdwyns hair was the color of raw honey, darker and with more reddish brown tones than Eowyn's, and where his sisters eyes were the light gray of fresh forged steel, Maerdwyns were a deep green the same shade as fir trees. But both had strong, lithe forms, with lots of muscle strength under their curves. And they were fierce in both attitude and fighting prowess.

Eomer smiled at the memories as Maerdwyn took Elfwine from him and spun him about.

"Oh, my darling little prince! Your first steps! I am so proud of you!"

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" Elfwine kept repeating, caught up in the excitement.

Eomer smiled wider, seeing the pride that shone in Maerdwyns eyes as she looked at the small boy. It reminded him of better days, before two evils had come to their home and torn the three friends asunder. He frowned then.

"Eomer?" Maerdwyns voice drew him from the dark reverie. "What is wrong? Are you not proud of your son?"

"I am." Eomer said, then he put on a false smile and walked over to them. He tousled Elfwine's hair and kissed him. "I just remembered something that I said I would do for the council. If you will excuse me?"

"Of course! We would not want to keep you. Will we see you for supper?"

Eomer thought for a moment. "No. I will probably be out late. Could you have one of the cooks leave some bread and cheese in my room for when I am back?"

"I will do it myself as soon as I have Elfwine to bed. You usually come back after the cooks have gone home."

"Thank you." Eomer said, then turned and walked quickly away, leaving a bewildered Maerdwyn standing there holding Elfwine, wondering what had happened to suddenly turn the kings mood in a sour direction.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Eomer stalked out of Meduseld, making his way towards the royal stables. He was angry, and sad, and furious, and morose. A bundle of emotion that he did not know how to handle.

He entered the stables, going straight for the largest stall. Within, Firefoot was happily munching away at a bag of oats. The black Meara looked up when his master whistled, and came over to the gate, butting his nose into Eomers chest.

"Hello, boy." He said, stroking has hand down the stallions mane. "Do you feel like a good long ride today? I need to get away for a while."

Firefoot started nodding his head, and prancing in place and whinnying. Eomer opened the gate, going inside and taking his steeds tack from its place on the wall. He strapped it on, then hauled himself into the saddle. With a light touch to Firefoots sides, he burst from the stables and towards one of the three guarded gates that lined the walls of Edoras.

He went through the gate, telling the guard on duty his general whereabouts and where he would be going. He did not like that being necessary, but he was king now and could not simply leave and go where he wanted anymore.

He thundered through the gate, heading the the direction of the Snowborn River, not looking back. He did not see the small figure of Maerdwyn, bouncing a giggling Elfwine on her hip, as she stood on the terrace looking after him. Nor did he see the tears that flowed down her face.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

An hour later Eomer found himself almost to the foothills of the White Mountains, where the Snowborn found its source from melting snow and several clear sparkling streams. Oak and willow and pine grew in abundance here, so close to a source of water. It was a different landscape from the rolling, treeless plains of most of his realm. Eomer welcomed the change of scenery.

He was playing a scene out, over and over again in his head, from a decade earlier. Before Hrodgar and Grima had come out of the blue to ruin what could have been. He dismounted, letting Firefoot wander around grazing from the wild grasses that grew here.

He quickly stripped down to nothing but his underbreeches, and jumped into the small river. Despite it being summer, this close to its source the Snowborn was still icy cold from the icy melt waters from the higher elevations. He gasped as he fully submerged, but the shocking water helped to clear his head, even as it continued to play the scene over and over.

_It was summer, hot and stifling with barely a breeze. Training has been called off for a few days; it was too hot to train in heavy metal armor. Two teenaged boys had already gotten sun fever from the heat._

_Eowyn had suggested a good long ride and a picnic. Theoden had been against it, more and more orc sightings were being reported, and he thought it would be too dangerous. Only after Eowyn and Maerdwyn had pleaded, and promised to take Eomer with them as an escort and guard, did he grant his permission._

_Eomer, also with nothing to do, had agreed simply out of boredom. When the young women had told him where they were planning to go, he had recanted the boredom. They wanted to go upriver, where the water was cold even in summer, have a picnic and do some swimming to gain a respite from the sweltering heat._

_It was just past noon when they had arrived. They let their mounts run, while they spread out a sizeable picnic. They pulled out cold roasted meat, bread, cheese, and apples. Eowyn had even brought a bottle of Dorwinion wine, which she tied to a rope and put in the icy river. Within minutes it had gotten deliciously cold and refreshing._

_"So, brother," Eowyn asked, as she tore off a hunk of the bread, "How goes your training? We heard a rumor yesterday, but we would rather hear the truth from you."_

_"And what rumor would that be, sister mine?" He had retorted, after slicing off a bit of apple. He popped it into his mouth and chewed. Maerdwyn answered._

_"That soon a certain child of Eomund would be receiving the honorable position of Third Marshal."_

_Eomer looked at her with raised brows. The fifteen year old young woman was smiling at him, a mischievous glint in her green eyes._

_"Word travels fast, apparently." He said "Uncle only asked me about it yesterday."_

_"Then it is true!" Squeaked Eowyn, jumping up and down. She leaned over and gave him a hug "Congratulations, brother!" He returned the hug._

_Maerdwyn, too, was happy for him. "You will be one of the youngest men ever to be made a Marshal!"_

_"I have trained hard to earn the title." Eomer defended. "I have never missed a day of training!"_

_"Even if you were late sometimes, you sleepyhead!" Maerdwyn giggled at him._

_"I still managed to wake up early enough most of the time. And I am fine with getting up early now."_

_"Well, yes, then I supposed that is alright then." She answered, laughing again._

_Eomer looked at her again. She truly had grown to be a beautiful young woman. Nothing at all like the gangly-legged child he had first met when first he had come to Meduseld._

_"I have you two to thank for that!"_

_"Oh, brother, whatever to you mean?" Eowyn asked, feigning ignorance._

_"After the two of you began training, no one in the palace could sleep past sunrise! You two with all the loud ruckus and click-clacking of those bloody practice swords!"_

_"Well, we wanted to practice. The grown men had the field in the mornings, where else would we have practiced?"_

_"You always seemed to manage to be right outside my window!"_

_Maerdwyn frowned. "Well it is not OUR fault that your window is right by the gardens."_

_The two girls giggled. After a while they were done eating, and undressed down to their underdresses, and Eomer to his trousers, and jumped hooting and hollering into the icy river. It was refreshing after weeks of oppressive heat._

_They swam around for a while, and then Eowyn wanted to go back to shore and rest. Eomer and Maerdwyn had stayed in the water whilst she napped in the sun. _

_They continued swimming, the slow movement of the smaller river slowly pulling them downstream. They had a splashing fight, to which both proclaimed themselves the winner, until it got too cold in the water._

_"Eomer!" Maerdwyn called from across the river. He looked over at her, and gasped. She was standing knee deep in the water, her wet dress clinging to her form, the coldness of the river apparent in the two hardened nipples showing through the wet cloth. The sun was behind her, and outlined her form in a golden light. By the gods she was gorgeous!_

_"Eomer?" She called again, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and shivering._

_"Uh... What?" He stammered, a little embarrassed that he had been caught staring._

_"I am cold. I want to get out and walk. The river carried us downstream, we should be getting back to Eowyn."_

_"Uh... Yes, of course." He said, hauling himself out of the river. He was not cold, but if she wanted to walk in the sun and warm up, he could hardly stay in by himself. Besides, he would not mind walking beside her for a while._

_They began walking side by side upriver, through the multitude of trees that grew along the banks. The wind had picked up, and soon Maerdwyn was shivering in her wet clothes._

_"Are you cold?" He asked._

_"A bit. That water was colder than i expected."_

_"The beginning of the Snowborn is cold all year, even in summer."_

_Maerdwyn smiled. "You would think I would remember that by now." She shivered again._

_"But you are stubborn."_

_She laughed. "That I am."_

_A thought suddenly barged its way into Eomers head. Before he knew what he was doing, Eomer had stepped in front of her, and drawn her into an embrace._

_"Eomer! What are you doing?" She cried. She put her hands up on his chest and pushed back a little._

_"Trying to help you get warm. Unless you do not wish me to?"_

_"Well, um... No... But..."_

_"But what? You are cold, and I am trying to warm you up. Unless it is a problem?"_

_"Well... No..." She stammered, a little embarrassed and unsure of what to do._

_"Well then." He said, and he drew her closer to his chest. She did not resist, and he rubbed her shoulders and back, using the friction to try and warm her._

_After a while she stopped shivering. Her dress was only slightly damp now, the sharp wind having dried most of it. She looked up at him and sighed._

_"Thank you, Eomer." She said, smiling up at him._

_"You are most welcome." _

_"Are you going to let me go now?" She said, smiling wider._

_A mischievous look went through his eyes and he grinned. "No. I do not think I will."_

_His grip tightened when she tried to pull away. It was hard to do, her hands were between her chest and his, very effectively pinned._

_"What are you doing?"_

_"Is it not obvious?"_

_"I can get away from you, you big brute!"_

_"Is that a challenge?" He asked, his eyes twinkling with humor._

_"Well... I... Um... Yes, it is!" She said, and she vehemently began squirming, trying to get her hands loose. He gripped tighter, hooking one hand around his wrist to strengthen his grip._

_"Ugh! You brute!"_

_"I am only holding you. You are the one who cannot get loose."_

_"My hands are pinned!"_

_"Well then, you should have thought of that before accepting the challenge."_

_She glared at him, then very unceremoniously kicked him in the shin. He winced, and his grip loosened. She wiggled and her hands came free._

_"Ow! That is not fair!"_

_She just looked at him, "Well then, you should have thought of rules before issuing your challenge." She said, flinging his previous words back into his face._

_He laughed and tightened his grip again. She pushed against him with all her might, turning around and trying to kick off from the ground to get free. She was strong, but not as strong as he was, and she only succeeded in bouncing around, his grip not loosening in the least._

_She cried out, frustrated, when he lifted her bodily into the air. Her feet were free of the ground and she had no leverage. She started kicking wildly into the air. She succeeded in unbalancing him, but he kept his grip as the two fell backwards, Maerdwyn landing on top of him._

_"Ugh! Fine! Fine! You win!"_

_His arms loosened, and she pulled free of him. She turned around and glared at him. He was smiling proudly at himself._

_"What do I win?"_

_"Oh you big brute!"_

_"That is not a prize for one to win." She looked unhappy, and flopped down next to him on the grass. She turned to him._

_"I do not know. What would the new Third Marshal want?"_

_"This." He said, and before she could react he had leaned in and kissed her. It was quick, barely a peck, but the look of shock on her face when he was done almost made him burst out in laughter._

_"What? Can a man not want a kiss from a beautiful lady?"_

_"Well... Um... No..." She smiled a little at him. "There is nothing wrong with it... But-"_

_"Good." He said, and he leaned in and kissed her again. This time the kiss was anything but chaste. It was deep, and long, and perfect, lips parting and tongues dancing. When he pulled away, they were both breathless. He reached up and put a hand on her cheek._

_"That was better." She laughed and gaped at him._

_"Well all the experience came from you! I have never kissed anyone before!"_

_He gaped back at her. "Truly? For one so inexperienced you kiss rather well." She scoffed and put her hands on her hips._

_"And, pray tell, soon-to-be Marshal. Where did you get YOUR experience then?"_

_"Ah ah. That is for me to know. At least I use the talent well. Though I have never gone beyond kissing to be honest."_

_"That is hard to believe. A young man as handsome as you?"_

_"So you think I am handsome, do you?"_

_She looked a little embarrassed. "Well, uh... Yes, if you must know."_

_"And I have always thought you beautiful."_

_Maerdwyn blushed, and looked down. He reached out and took her chin in his hand. She looked up at him._

_"You have no need to be shy. You are beautiful to me."_

_She blushed again, but leaned in and pecked him on the lips again. Then she stood up._

_"We should be getting back to your sister, Eomer. We do not need her coming to look for us."_

_"If you insist." He said, hauling himself up from the ground. As Maerdwyn turned he caught her arm, and spun her around, capturing one last kiss before they went back to Eowyn, this time holding hands._

Eomer growled as he emerged from the icy river. This had been his place to go when he was feeling melancholy, to clear his head, after Maerdwyn had been hauled away into an arranged marriage by her father. Nothing bad had ever happened at this spot in the river. It had always been peaceful.

What would have happened if he had never done so? He wondered. Now that his wife was gone, some of the feelings he had held for Maerdwyn had resurfaced from the corner of his mind where he had long ago abandoned any hope.

He felt like he was betraying Lothiriels memory. He did not even know exactly how he felt where Maerdwyn was concerned, only that when he was a much younger man, more than a decade ago, he had felt something.

He had allowed Maerdwyn to stay in Meduseld at Eowyns request, after the death of her despicable father and her husband. She had become friends with his wife even, her head lady in waiting. He had been so angry with her for leaving, it felt as if she had betrayed him, but he could not turn her away when she had no family and no land. Despite his anger at her, he could not turn her out into the cold.

In a way, she had betrayed him. After their first kiss, he had been sent on raid after raid, and scout after scout, sometimes gone for weeks or months at a time, having only a few days rest in Edoras full of war councils and battle planning before he left again.

When he had returned from one trip, he had found his sister weeping, and Maerdwyn gone, off with her father to marry that stuffy Lord Baeor. He had been so full of rage he had destroyed the dresser in his room, overturning it and rendering into many splintery pieces. He had felt as if his heart had been ripped in two.

What was he to do now?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I hope you guys liked the last chapter! I am trying to keep them updating every Wednesday, but bear with me. We are going through season where I work, so there may be weeks where I am working overtime and the chapter might be a day or two late. But I use my tablet to write and take notes while on break at work so hopefully they will continue to be on time.

Reviews make my day!

Special thanks to Borys68, who has commented on every chapter as well as PM'd me with tips and pointers. You've been a great help!

And now... On with the show!

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Chapter 5 – Bitter Pasts

For two weeks after the day at the river, Eomer had been avoiding Maerdwyn. The only time he saw her or spent time was when he was with his son. He had let his son call her mother, he had been truthful when he said that Elfwine needed a mother figure, and he would not take her away now. But that did not mean he was required to like it, or be around for it.

For Maerdwyn, his sudden refusal of her company was nothing new. It was a continuation of a conclusion that she had come to a decade before. While it pained her, there was nothing she could do about it. If he had made his decision, then it was done, and it was obvious that she was wanted as nothing more than a caregiver for his son.

She went about her duties as if it was any other day in the kings household, waking Elfwine, dressing him, feeding him, playing with him and cleaning up after him, putting him to bed at night. She tried to make herself as unobtrusive as possible. She did not know if she had even done anything to anger Eomer, but she was not going to attempt anything to provoke it either.

Part of her resented being treated like she was. She had never done anything to him to warrant such a reaction. She had only and ever been his friend, until that horrid day when he had been sent away on his scouting missions. After that, he had barely spoken to her on those rare times that he was home, ignoring her for the most part in deference to war councils and battle strategy.

He had obviously wanted nothing more from her, despite that kiss on the river. She had never felt so hurt, or betrayed, or alone. Eomer had left, Grima had come to Edoras as adviser to the king, and soon after Theodens health had begun to decline. She had put aside much of her emotions to help Eowyn take care of him.

Eowyn had noticed something different with her friend, but Maerdwyn would not answer her when questioned, and Eowyn had left her alone. Maerdwyn was grateful at the time. She had not wanted to confide anything of what she felt. She was young, and too confused and hurt.

Later, when Hrodgar had come, announcing her betrothal to Baeor, she had accepted it, knowing that there was at least a slim chance of happiness with him, and perhaps a chance at pleasing her always aloof father. Baeor was nice enough, he respected her and her wish to continue as a shield-maiden. There was never any love between them, but a friendly kindness had developed after a few years. It had been better than nothing at all.

When orcs had begun to attack, Baeor had been frightened for her, especially when a raid had all but destroyed a small farming community less than five miles from his manor. He had sent her to Edoras, the safest place in Rohan, with its high walls and multitude of guards.

She had not liked it, but he had pleaded with her. He wanted to keep her safe, he wanted her gone from this place of danger. She had agreed, and once she had arrived at Edoras she realized just how much the capital had changed in her years away. She had only come back to visit once, and it had ended disastrously after an encounter with Eomer.

By the time she returned, Eomer was all but banished from court, thanks to Grima and his cohorts. And then, less than a month later, her father and Prince Theodred had been killed in the Battle of the Fords of Isen.

She and Eowyn had taken care of Theoden, who looked as if he had aged thirty years in less than ten. Maerdwyn could do nothing to stop it. All she and Eowyn could do was take care of him as best they could.

When the three companions had arrived, with the wizard in tow, it had been a marvelous experience. To see the curse of Saruman thrown away like the broken links of a cuff. And afterwards, the journey to the Hornburg. She had gotten a chance to reconnect with Eowyn, though Eowyns eyes had more time for the dashing ranger Aragorn than for her.

Once there, she and Eowyn had been assigned to helping the women and children in the Glittering Caves. When the deeping wall had been blasted apart by Sarumans infernal magics, the two noble shield-maidens of Rohan had defended the entrance to the caves when a few Uruk-Hai had found their way to the door.

Afterwards, when the beacons of Gondor had been lit, she had traveled with the army to see them off from the gathering field of Dunharrow. There she had bid her husband farewell. It was slightly awkward with Eomer nearby, but he had steadfastly ignored her, as he had done for years, unless it was absolutely necessary.

Once the army had departed, she and the other women, elders and squires had ridden back to the capital. On the way, she had realized that Eowyn was not among them, and had deduced that she had instead ridden with the men. She had been frantic with worry for several weeks until news came later that the enemy had been defeated, and though Eowyn had been injured fighting the Witch King of Angmar, she was on the mend. King Theoden had been killed as well.

She had also received word that Baeor had been killed. She had been crestfallen. While she had not loved him, he had been kind, and respected her independence. He had been a good man, a good husband, and now he was gone. They had no children, and he was an only child. With Baeors death along with the demise of her father, Maerdwyn had been left moneyless, childless, with no family or title.

She had prepared to leave the capital altogether, and indeed had all of her worldly possessions packed away when a letter had come from Eowyn. She had told her friend of her battle, her recovery, and her encounter with the kindhearted Faramir. She knew about Baeor, and had persuaded Eomer to let her stay as a lady-in-waiting to the soon to be queen.

Maerdwyns stomach had dropped when she read that line. The new queen. Any hope that may have lain dormant was then well and truly sundered. She had accepted the position. She had no place to go anyway.

The day of Eomers wedding had been one of the hardest in her life. To stand there and watch him place the ceremonial ring and crown on Lothiriel had been almost too much for her. The beaming face of the new queen had told her enough. They were well and truly in love.

Soon after the wedding the sadness for her father and husband had gone numb. She was much too busy with the new monarch. Lothiriel was a wonderful queen, full of kindness and good morals, doing all she could to learn Rohirric. The first thing she had done as queen was to establish a school and orphanage for those children left parentless by the war, and she worked hard to find them new families and homes.

She, Maerdwyn, and the other ladies-in-waiting had worked long hours sewing shirts and trousers and toys for the poor and underprivileged widows and orphans. Lothiriel had set the perfect example for the other noblewomen of Rohan. Maerdwyn had come to respect her greatly, and considered her a friend.

It had been a hard blow to her when Lothiriel had succumbed to the childbed fever. It seemed that almost everyone she had ever cared for were gone, with the exception of Eomer and Eowyn. But Eomer had shown long ago that he no longer cared, and Eowyn was gone, off to Ithilien to be wed and happy for the rest of her life.

And now, the only thing keeping her in any semblance of happiness was Elfwine. She loved him as the child she never had. And, in some way, it filled a hole in her heart that had long ago been dug.

To anyone else of the court, nothing seemed amiss between the king and Lady Maerdwyn. But very few in the great hall knew either of them well. For weeks there was a tight undercurrent of tension.

At the end of August, Eomer, Maerdwyn, Elfwine, and a few other prominent members of the court departed for Ithilien. Lord Erkenbrand, the new Fourth Marshal, had been left behind to rule in Eomers absence.

For two weeks they traveled east, towards the end of the White Mountains. Eomer seemed angry, and Maerdwyn did not know what had happened to put him in such a bad mood. The only time she saw him was when he handed his son over for feeding or changing, with hardly more than a word.

Needless to say, when Eowyn and Faramir met them on the steps of their newly completed manor, Eowyn could tell immediately that something was wrong. She was the only one who knew either of them well enough to tell.

That evening, after the guests had been situated and a small dinner served, Eowyn pulled her brother aside in a small parlor.

"Eomer, what is wrong?" He looked angry for a moment before he looked at her.

"Nothing."

"You may be the king, but you are still my brother, and a horrid liar to boot."

"It is nothing, Eowyn, I am just tired from the trip." she put her hands on her hips.

"You cannot fool me, brother. It is useless to try."

He growled at her. "What do you want?"

"You heard me. Answer the question." Her tone brooked no further argumentation. She was one of the few who could get away with speaking to him thusly.

Eomer frowned. Damn her! Why could no one leave well enough alone? He sighed.

"Memories of the past have kept me as you see me. That is all I wish to say."

"Memories of your wife? Or memories of Maerdwyn?"

"Why do you care?"

"I care because you are my brother and she is my truest friend in this world. I will not have you making her life miserable because of your temper."

"MY temper? What of hers? Or her disrespect? You think she likes us? Do you think she loves us? She only stays because she has nowhere else to go and you made me promise to care for her."

"I have nothing to do with why she stayed, and you know it."

"What do you know?"

"I have eyes, brother. I can see as well as any other. The problem is that very few know you or Maerdwyn very well at all."

"I know her heart well enough. She made me hope, once, and then tore that hope away to run off and please her father. I will never forgive her for it."

"Perhaps you should give her a chance." Eowyn said, putting a hand on his arm. He jerked it away.

"Why should I?"

"Because once you left, you never saw what happened to her. You never saw what she felt. She left with Hrodgar because she thought it was her only hope at even a small piece of happiness."

"What?" he was confused. She had left just to spite him.

"You heard me. She married Baeor because she thought it was her only choice."

"She had a choice! She could have told her father no! You told me yourself. You said she refused your offer of sanctuary."

"This is not something I should be telling you, Eomer. Please speak to her. Only she knows exactly why she did what she did. If you do not, you may chase her away and regret it for the rest of your days."

Eowyn stepped back, appraising her brother, then lifted her arm and smacked him full in the face. He staggered back, caught unawares. He looked at her in shock.

"What in Mordor was that for?!"

"That was for you being a big, stubborn, pigheaded brute who does not like to listen to reason." she stepped back again, looking him up and down.

"Be reasonable, brother. I heard Elfwine at dinner. You let him call Maerdwyn 'mother'. You obviously do not hate her completely, or you would never have allowed it. Stubbornness is not one of your finer qualities. It had many times clouded your thinking and gotten in the way of you being rational."

He stared at her, still shocked by Eowyns actions. He did not reply. She smiled and scoffed.

"Do not think that silent treatment will work on me, dear brother. You know that your pride has gotten in the way of many things. You will not admit it, I do not know if you ever will. But this rift between the two of you will end. We grew up together, I care for you and for her almost more than I care for Faramir."

Eomer looked as if he did not believe a word she said. She walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm. This time he did not flinch away.

"Please, Eomer. You were around so little when everything happened, with Grima and Hrodgar and Maerdwyn. You were so tired and busy when you returned that you saw nothing but the next raid."

Eomer opened his mouth to argue, but Eowyn held up a hand.

"Please let me finish. Maerdwyn is very good at hiding what she feels. I believe having no mother and a distant father never really helped her to show them well. You NEED to give her a chance to explain herself, to tell you her side. I saw what she went through far more than you ever did. She may not have said anything aloud, she may have acted as if nothing was amiss, but I know her too well to believe it. But I respected her wishes for privacy and let her alone. Perhaps it was a mistake."

"It was a mighty big mistake to have made!" Eomer almost hissed at her. "I have spent years thinking that she cared nothing for me, that she was thinking only of herself when she left us. I have spent years believing horrible things about her!"

Eowyn looked pained for a moment. "I think it was a mistake, but I am trying to rectify that now. And if you hated her so much, why did you let her stay in Meduseld? Why did you let her become handmaiden to your wife?"

"Because you asked me to. You said she had no place to go, she had no lands, her title was only a piece of parchment, with nothing to be gained from it. I agreed because I had fallen in love with another, and did not care anymore. I may have hated what she did, but what kind of a man would I be if I let her leave?"

"Then at least all of your reason has not left you. How did you not hate her for being in the same house as you? You speak as if she is an embodiment of a demon, like she is full of hatred and malice and all manner of things."

"Because I loved my wife! I hardly noticed her, and when I did she seemed to be trying very hard to cause no trouble. I thought she stayed because she had no other place to go."

"She did not have anywhere to go. But she was planning on leaving just the same. Before she got my letter she had already packed what little she owned and was planning on leaving Edoras altogether. She was not looking for charity or handouts. She was planning very much to disappear. I am very glad I convinced her otherwise."

"She was planning on leaving?"

"Yes. She never told anyone but me. She had her clothing, her sword and a few other small things packed and ready to go. She did not want to be a burden to anyone."

"Why did she never tell me this?"

"You two grew apart after you left and she was married. It is not that difficult to understand, a married man does not usually want his wife speaking overmuch with other men. You two were never really close again after that hot summer where you were made Marshal."

Eomer hung his head. Eowyn hugged his shoulder.

"I think, in time, you may have forgiven her, brother. Especially having found love yourself. But I think losing Lothiriel so soon after your wedding brought back many bitter feelings from the past, and you were never one for overly strong emotion. You prefer anger, and hatred, because for years it is what fueled you in the war, and you became used to it. Anger is far easier to feel than grief, or sadness, or even love. But know this-"

Eomer looked up at her.

"You were at least given a second chance. You found Lothiriel. You were able to set aside whatever you may have felt for Maerdwyn for her. You were able to move on and fall in love with another. If Maerdwyn felt anything at all for you, she never moved on from it. I know she never loved her husband. She went because he respected her, and he did not mind her being a capable warrior, and because without him she would have been completely alone in this world save for me."

"But I was there!"

"No, you were not. You left. You began your Marshaling career with a vim and verve that were admirable. But for several years you hardly spoke to either of us. You spoke more to me than to her, actually. You would be gone for weeks and months at a time, with barely any time for sleep when you did get a chance to come home. That may have given her the wrong idea. I do not know. You will have to ask her yourself."

Eomer hung his head again, looking slightly embarrassed. "Why would she forgive me now?"

"Because if she did care for you, even a little, all she would need hear is that you are sorry. I know I am like that with Faramir."

She hugged him again, then stood up. "Please talk to her brother. You will never know the entire tale if you do not ask her."

"I will. I am sorry, sister."

"There is nothing to be sorry to me about, unless you ruin my wedding with this childish behavior. If you ruin my wedding, no army in the world would be able to stand in my way to vengeance."

Eomer laughed, "You just made a wedding sound like a terrific battle. Trust the shield-maiden to say such things."

Eowyn laughed back. "Do not forget, brother mine, that Maerdwyn, too, is a shield-maiden. She has a warriors heart, despite her woman's body. Tread carefully with what you say and how. Her temper is worse than mine. And THAT is saying something." she had a graven look on her face then, and Eomer nodded glumly as Eowyn turned and left the room.

Eomer stood, staring at the fire in the hearth on one wall, his head a jumble of many things. Had she really cared? Had she truly gone of with Baeor because she felt she had no other choice to be happy? Had he really ignored her during his visits home?

A confusing tumble of thoughts and emotions started spinning in his head. But then his sisters words came back to him and he stood, leaving the parlor and heading towards the guest wing of the house and, more specifically, Maerdwyns room. There was only one way to end this, though Eomer did not look forward to the conversation.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I am so sorry to everyone. I had to reload this chapter because I realized that when I uploaded it I uploaded and earlier version with only five pages when in fact the finished one had twelve! Apologies... I didn't catch the oops until today. It is now rectified! **

Chapter 6 – Reconciliation

Eomer stopped in front of Maerdwyns room, thinking of what he would say before he knocked. He did not know how to go about it. He had never been very good at small talk, or talking about emotions. There were very few people he had ever been comfortable talking about such things with; Eowyn, Lothiriel and, when they were younger at least, with Maerdwyn.

He had distanced himself so much from the younger shield-maiden that that closeness had all but evaporated. He did not know what to say, or how to say it. He raised his hand, preparing to knock, but the door opened and Maerdwyn stood there, staring at him. She kept her gaze down, not making eye contact.

"Is there something you need, Your Grace?" She asked. After Elfwines first steps, when she had reverted to more formal titles and mannerisms, he had realized how much he missed someone calling him by his name. But he had been too angry and stubborn to say anything about it.

"Maerdwyn-" he started, then stopped, at a loss.

"If you would like to see the prince, my lord, I just put him to bed. The maid Haiwen is with him tonight."

"I did not come to see my son." There. At least he had gotten a full sentence out that time.

"Then is there a task I can do for you, Your Grace?"

"Um... No, not really."

"Then please excuse me. I have some clothes of the princes that need mending. He caught his trouser leg in a bush and ripped a seam." She moved to walk past him. He reached out and almost slammed his hand into the doorway. She halted and backed away, looking slightly frightened.

"No. I need to speak with you. Would you please walk with me?"

"With all due respect, Your Grace, I do not believe there is anything to discuss. I know you do not wish to have anything to do with me. I am ever a humble servant, to you and the prince."

"Maerdwyn, please!" She still avoided looking at him. A servant never looked her lord in the eye.

"What? What could there possibly be to discuss with me, my lord? It is done, it is over. You made that very clear to me more than once." Her voice seemed to tremble a bit at the bold remark, but she said it anyway.

"Please, Maerdwyn, I am trying. You know I have never been a very eloquent speaker."

"But why? There is nothing to say." Her voice was audibly trembling now, as if she were trying not to cry.

"There is, and I want to try. Can you not at least put forth the same effort?"

"I have been putting forth an effort. Even moreso than you, my lord."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you wish to speak with me or not, my lord?"

He sighed, pulling his hand away from the doorframe. "Yes I do. That is why I came here. There are gardens and the woods nearby if you do not wish anyone to overhear anything."

"Why would I care, my lord? It is not as if anything improper ever happened." she scoffed a little at that, and Eomer saw a hint of anger rising in her face. At least it was better than her crying. He hated seeing a woman cry. It made him want to hit things.

"Please, Maerdwyn. Walk with me."

"Very well, my lord."

She stepped out into the hallway, closing her door behind her. Eomer stepped forward, walking towards the stairs leading down to the first floor. When he got to the head of the stairs he realized that she was walking behind him, in the place of a servant, and it hurt a little.

"Please, walk next to me."

"I would rather not, my lord. It is not proper."

"Since when did either of us give a damn about what was proper?"

"Since I became a servant, my lord."

"Will you do it?"

"Only if you order me to, my lord. It is not proper."

"Then I order you. Walk beside me, Maerdwyn. You know I hate pomp."

She moved up next to him and they began to descend the stairs. She did not speak, or look at him, she stared straight ahead as she walked down the steps.

"Why so quiet?"

"You are the one who wished to talk, my lord. Not me."

"Are you trying to be difficult?"

They had reached the bottom and walked towards the kitchens, where a back door led into the gardens of the estate.

"No, I am not trying to be difficult, my lord. You said if there was something not to be overheard then we could go to the gardens or into the trees."

"But no small talk?" he asked, looking at her from the corner of his eye. He thought he saw her mouth curl up slightly, but he was trying to be unobtrusive, so he could not tell.

"You know I have never been good at small talk. I never really learned truly ladylike ways growing up. It is one of my faults."

"I had to learn small talk after I was crowned. I hate it. You have no idea how bothersome it is to have lords and ladies talking your ears off about nonsense."

"No, I do not. I was never at a high court very much. I went to Gondor, once, for King Elessars coronation. If that was any hint as to what high society is like, then I am glad to no be amongst their numbers."

"But you are. You are a member of my court."

"Only as a servant. And I do not mean to be disrespectful, my lord, but the Rohirrim are nowhere near as pompous and full of themselves as some from Gondor or its territories."

"Your words are true enough."

They stopped talking after that, walking in silence until they had walked through the now cold and empty kitchens, out the back door, and into the gardens. It was dark, but the half full moon and bright stars lit it well enough to see by, as long as one did not need to move fast.

They got all the way to the end of the garden, and Eomer decided to go a little further into the woods. He suspected that with the upcoming conversation, voices might be raised, and he did not want anyone hearing them, or coming over to help.

They were maybe a half mile into the woods when he finally stopped walking. He turned to the woman beside him. She had stopped, turning towards him, but still not making eye contact. It frustrated him. He reached out, putting his hand on her chin and raising her face until she was looking at him.

"Maerdwyn, I said long ago to drop the formalities. Why did you start again?"

She looked at him, "You are angry with me, or you hate me, or both. I do not know. I do not know what I ever did to make you hate me so. But I was not going to chance angering you more with my manners. You made it very plain after Elfwine began walking that you were very angry."

"You did not think to ask?"

"I know your temper. You were angry at me. If I had gone snooping around into your business, I would have been packed up and ready to leave in an hour. We both know it."

Eomer dropped his head. It was one of his flaws, a temper that acted first and thought later. It had made quite a few people in court, even before he had become king, tiptoe around him so as not to invoke his ire.

"I am sorry, Maerdwyn."

"What are you sorry for? I have obviously done something to upset you, I do not need to know what it was, only that I did it."

"That is not true. You know ever since... SHE died my entire life had been a mess. I am quicker to anger, and quicker to hold a grudge. Why do you think I spent so much time training? You think I need to train more? There is no more war. I have been fighting and killing for more than half of my life, Maerdwyn. I do not want it anymore."

"All I tried to do was make it easier to bear. I am helping you with your son, I still do not know why you let him call me mother. I am not his mother, you have held a grudge against me for years for something I had no control over. I was not about to start questioning you."

"So you had no choice? That is what Eowyn said just a few minutes ago."

"Is she the one who prompted you to speak to me? Why?"

"She could tell there was something off between us. She is one of the few who could."

"There has been something off between you and I for more than ten years, Eomer, and all you ever did before and after it was ignore me, or find something better to do if I happened to be in your way."

"I did not know what to say. Just like now, I still do not know what to say, but I am trying, Maerdwyn."

"Then ask. Although with my answers you may find yourself more angry than before."

Eomer took a deep breath, a dozen question swirling in his head. He decided on the one that had already been asked.

"Is it true that you left because you felt you had no other choice?"

"Yes." She said, going into no further detail.

"That is all? Yes? Are you not going to tell me more?"

This time it was Maerdwyns turn to sigh.

"Fine then. Yes, I left because I felt I had no choice. I thought you did not care anymore. Not after that day on the Snowborn."

"But why? What could I have done to make you think so?"

"You never said anything to me after that day. You were so proud to be Third Marshal, and you were gone so much on scouts and raids. When you came back, you were only there for a few days, a week at the most. And when you were back, you never had any time for me. Barely a word was spoken between us for almost three years."

"I was busy! Orcs were attacking the edges of our borders. The wild tribes of Men were growing more restless and bold. I barely had time for sleep and a bath before I had to leave again!" He looked offended. Maerdwyn, on the other hand, was nearly weeping. She answered with a trembling voice.

"Yet you always made time for Eowyn. Every single time you returned you made a point of visiting her. But not me. I knew you cared more for your sister than for me. It hurt Eomer." She sniffled a little, obviously trying very hard not to lose her composure.

"But why did you not seek me out? I was there! All you had to do was look for me!"

"You were always busy, with councils or strategems or with the king. Whenever I did try to find you, I was told you were busy."

"By whom?"

"Many different people. Erkenbrand, Elfhelm, most of the time it was Grima. He was usually with you and the king in council."

"That worm! Why did you listen? Why did you accept his words as truth when everything that came from his forked tongue was a lie?" She got angry then.

"I was sixteen, Eomer! Sixteen! I barely knew what I was feeling or thinking, let alone anyone else! And no one knew in the first few years of him being in Meduseld that he was Sarumans spy! Not you, not Eowyn, not even Theoden! You think I would-" she stopped, lifting a hand to her face and covering her eyes. Eomer heard soft sobs coming from under it. He instantly regretted his anger at her for the past weeks.

He walked over to her, putting an arm around her, for the first time in nearly a decade but for that one night when they'd buried his wife. She nearly collapsed as her shoulders started shaking, and he lowered them to the ground. She was sobbing almost uncontrollably, his tunic was soon damp. He just sat there and held her. After a few minutes he realized he had started humming. He could not recall when he had started. But it seemed to help her to calm down. When she had calmed down, he spoke up.

"So you left when you thought I did not care." She sat up, moving away from him. He regretted her leaving. He had rather liked it. He shook his head, this was NOT the time to be thinking such things.

"Yes, I left! My father wanted me to marry Baeor. He was nice enough. He respected me, he respected my being a shield-maiden, he wanted me to be happy."

"But did you love him?"

"No! And he did not love me either. We met on the day of our wedding! But it made our fathers happy."

"Then why? Why, Maerdwyn?"

"Because after you left for the last time I thought it was my only hope of being happy. Almost three years of nothing from you made me realize that you would never love me, and that I had been a fool to think otherwise. I did not want to be in Meduseld when next you returned to say nothing to me again."

"And all this time I thought you had snuck off to please Hrodgar and spite me."

"Why would I do that? I grew up with you and Eowyn, you were the only family I had left!"

"I guess years of anger will make up any reasoning to justify it. I should have gone after you. I should have stopped you, but my pride got in my way."

"And now you hate me. You found another to love, another to bear your children, a princess with ten time as much merit as I."

"Maerdwyn, that is not true."

"Then why did you ignore me after my first visit home? After what happened at Midwinter? And then you stopped talking to me altogether? You had taken what you wanted from me, is that it? You did not need me anymore so I was to be tossed aside like old laundry? You ripped my heart out that night Eomer." She started crying again, heaving sobs that shook her shoulders. Eomer reached out and brought her to him again, running fingers through her hair

Eomer sighed, wishing she had not brought that event up. And now his mind raced as the memory came to the forefront of his thoughts.

_It was Midwinter in three days. Eowyn had made him promise to stay, and not ride off on another scouting mission. He had promised, but he itched to get away. His sister had invited Maerdwyn for the feast, and she had accepted. Luckily Baeor was staying behind, he was on a scouting mission of his own and did not have the time to travel to the capital._

_Eomer dreaded seeing her. He was angry, furious at her for leaving without so much as a goodbye. Seeing his sister weeping on his return four months earlier had been a horrible thing to see. Eowyn never cried, so for her to be sobbing as hysterically as she had been showed how much Maerdwyns leaving had affected her._

_Eowyn had made him promise to be nice. She said Maerdwyn had left to please her father, and had asked for their blessing. She had given it, even though it had broken her heart to see her best friend ride away to be married to a man she had never met._

_Eomer knew that that particular promise would be a hard one to keep. He would be better off getting stone drunk to pass out as early as he could. At least it would keep him from saying or doing anything stupid._

_Maerdwyn arrived on Midwinter's day, alone, with no escort. Baeor apparently trusted in her skills with a sword enough to let her run around without a guard. Theoden, Eomer, Eowyn and Theodred had met her on the steps of Meduseld, where she met them bundled in a black bear fur cloak. Eomer remembered being slightly awestruck when he saw her. The honey color of her hair had shone bright against the black fur of the cloak, and the dark color made the green of her eyes stand out as well. He had almost kicked himself then and there._

_She was given her old room to use for her stay. She would only be there for a couple of days before returning home. She had not come out until the festivities had started, and Eomer really HAD kicked himself then, in his head at least, when she emerged for the drinking of the wine cup that accompanied any celebration in the great hall._

_When she strode from the corridor, he had gasped aloud. She was wearing a crimson gown, very different from her normal trousers and shirt that he was used to her wearing. It was a dark red, nearly burgundy velvet, with a lacy décolletage, sleeve and hemlines done in designs of cloth-of-gold thread. Golden laces tied up the back, trailing down to the floor. _

_She had twisted her honey colored hair with strands of golden ribbon, trailing in a thick braid down her back to her hips , and a small circlet with a center garnet, with two sprigs of winter holly berries, sparkled on her head. Her skin was less tanned than it had been, but it was the middle of winter. Most people lost their tans in winter. The paleness was a stark contrast with the deep color of her dress._

_To Eomer, she was stunning. She had never liked her nose, or her slightly thicker brows, but to Eomer she was absolutely gorgeous. _

_She had stood in the back, waiting quietly without speaking to anyone whilst Eowyn had handed the ceremonial goblet from Theoden to Theodred and finally to Eomer. He had taken a healthy drink. He was going to need a lot of alcohol tonight._

_He watched her all night, speaking with men and women that she had not seen since her marriage. Eowyn spent a great deal of time with her, flitting between Maerdwyn and Theoden mostly. _

_Once the feasting was over, more mead and ale barrels were brought out, and a few minstrels started up a lively tune. Midwinter was a favorite holiday for many. It was when the winter was half done and began to wane, when the weather would soon turn warm and green grass would grow._

_Eomer, usually quite boisterous on this particular feast day, stood in the shadows, watching every movement Maerdwyn made, getting more drunk by the minute. She smiled at everyone who came up to her, laughed at a joke that Hama told her, and danced several dances with different partners._

_Around midnight, he saw her excuse herself, and begin walking back to her room. He followed her, quietly, while the loud sounds of reverie still sprang from the celebrants in the mead hall. He watched her go into her room and close the door. He walked towards it._

_What am I doing? He asked himself as he drew closer, but before his mead addled mind could answer he had closed the distance to the door and opened it, stepping inside._

_Maerdwyn had just removed her headband and had begun unbraiding her hair. She started when he walked into the room. She quickly stood, straightening her dress and tossing her loose hair behind her shoulders. He shut the door behind him._

_"Eomer? What are you doing here?"_

_"Why did you leave?" He asked, voice slightly slurred from the drink._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"You know damn well what I mean! You left! You left, sulking away with your father to marry that pompous Baeor! Without a word!" She looked upset, though with only the light from the fire he could not tell if she was angry or sad._

_"Everyone but you knew. You were gone. Off on another mission without so much as a word."_

_"You could have told me! You could have warned me!"_

_"Why should I warn you? You were off on your own, happy without anything to do with me! What else should I have done? Baeor is a good man, I could hardly have asked for a better one!"_

_"You had me!" He all but shouted at her._

_"I had you? That is the biggest lie I have ever heard, Eomer! You have some nerve!"_

_"Why, Maerdwyn? Why!? You made me hope so much, and now you went and tore it away!"_

_"I did not do anything that any other woman in my position would not have done! I had a suitor, and a nice one at that. I took him up on his offer!"_

_"But you do not even know him!"_

_"I had no other offers, Eomer! I was of marriageable age, with a nice, proper suitor who respected me and my choice of being a shield-maiden!"_

_"But you left me! You left me behind!" He was sounding almost hysterical now._

_"And why should I not? Childhood friends grow apart, Eomer. It is a part of life!"_

_Now Eomer was angry. He stalked over to her, she backed up until she hit the dresser. He came right in, grabbed her shoulder and pulled her towards him._

_"We were more than that and you know it." His voice came out half growl,and half whisper as he looked at her, desperation plain on his face._

_She looked back at him, almost ready to cry. "You never told me anything after that day on the river. Why? Now we can never-"_

_She was interrupted by his lips, a bone-crushing, panicked kiss that took her breath away. He pulled back a little and looked at her, and before she could think or say anything in protest she felt herself rush forward to capture him in another kiss._

_Her lips parted, his tongue entering and running along her bottom lip. She moaned into the kiss, and he bodily lifted her up, sitting her on the top of the dresser. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he started hiking her skirt up, their lips never parting._

_When the cold air was causing gooseflesh to rise on her thighs she felt him fumbling with his trousers. She leaned forward to help him but he already had the job done, he looked at her with a hunger she had never seen before, grabbed her by the hips and pulled her onto him._

_She gasped as he entered, making her feel more complete than anything her husband had ever done. He growled as he entered her, then began thrusting in and out, in and out, frantic movements that made the dresser shake and things fall off of it with soft thuds to the carpet._

_Eomer moaned into her neck, and she whimpered as he entered again. It felt so good! Never had she thought it could be like this! Eomer began nibbling her neck, and lower things tightened around him, making him gasp and stop moving for a moment._

_He hooked his arms underneath her knees and began again, smiling as his movements and the new angle caused little whimpers of pleasure to fall from her lips. He felt her tighten around him again, and he knew he was getting close, and by her breathing, so was she._

_He sped up, the legs of the dresser scraping along the floor, she moaned and whimpered, holding on to his shoulders as she got closer and closer, until in a wave of pleasure her climax washed over her, she gripped him tightly with arms and legs, suppressing a scream as the most delicious feeling she had ever felt coursed its way through her. A moment later, and Eomer was gasping into her neck as he, too, reached his peak, and he shuddered against her once he was spent. They both stayed there, unmoving, for a long time. _

_Finally, Maerdwyn broke the silence. "What have I done?" She sounded sad._

_Eomer stepped back and looked at her. "What do you mean, what have you done?" She looked very upset._

_"I am a horrid person, Eomer."_

_"No you are not!"_

_"Yes I am!" She said, and started crying. Eomer was shocked. This was not at all how this had ended in his head._

_"Why?"_

_"Because I have just betrayed someone who cares a great deal about me." She got down off the dresser, pulling her skirt down around her legs again. She sank to the floor and cried._

_Eomer was completely confused. "Why are you crying?" He asked, pulling his trousers back on._

_She looked up at him, tears running down both cheeks, then she hung her head and buried her face in her hands._

_"Because I am ashamed."_

_"Ashamed? Of what we just did? I have never done anything that felt so right, Maerdwyn! How can you say you are ashamed?" _

_"But I made a vow, before all the gods, to honor my husband, and you are not my husband, Eomer. And you never will be."_

_Eomer got angry again. "So what do we do now? Slink away like nothing happened?"_

_"I am going to go home and pray that your tongue never wags."_

_"So you want me to act as if nothing happened? As if there is nothing between us?"_

_She looked up at him again, wiping here eyes, her face setting in her resolve. "There IS nothing between us Eomer. There cannot be. I am a married woman, and you have your duties."_

_"I refuse to listen to this!"_

_"What would you have me do, Eomer? I cannot suddenly become unmarried. I left, because you tore my heart from my chest when you left on your precious missions. When you would come back and never say a word to me. I have made a vow, to my husband and the gods, and I intend to keep it."_

_"So I really do mean nothing to you, do I?" He hissed at her._

_"No, Eomer, I-"_

_"That is all perfectly fine, Maerdwyn." his voice was calm but it held an undercurrent of tension. It was as if any moment he could explode in a rage._

_"Eomer, please-"_

_"I do not want to hear any more. I have heard enough. You want nothing to do with me now that you have a nice, rich noble husband? One who is better and of higher rank than I?"_

_"No, Eomer, please! Listen to reason!" But he was already too angry and drunk for reason. He turned and stalked menacingly to the door. He put a hand on it, but before opening it he turned back to her. She still sat, slumped on the floor, her hair in disarray and her cheeks wet._

_"Do not speak to me again." And he opened the door and left._

Eomer sat there, holding Maerdwyn on the forest floor, feeling shame well up inside of him. He had been so stupid! She had been there waiting the entire time, and he had let honor and pride and duty get in the way. Maerdwyn had stopped her sobbing, and now lay trembling in his arms.

**A/N: Again... sorry for the oops... I hope the updated chapter, especially the ending, makes up for it! And please review! They make my day!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - An Unexpected Request

Eomer looked down at the woman in his arms. She was shaking still, but the tears had subsided, at least for now. He hugged her tighter to him, and she reached up her arms and returned the gesture. She looked up at him, her question silent but still bluntly clear to him.

"I do care for you, you know," he said. Her face crumbled a bit, and she buried her face in his chest.

"You are just saying that." He heard her say, muffled through the cloth of his tunic.

"Maerdwyn, please look at me." She looked up, fresh tears glistening in her eyes.

"I DO care for you. Ever since we were children, I have cared for you. Then, as we grew older, it went from friendship to... something else."

"A lust for me, you mean." She said it with a conviction that made Eomer wince.

"No, Maerdwyn, not like that. I will admit that lust was involved, it would be stupid to try and deny that, but what I meant was... after we got older, I began to like you. I was not even sure myself, I had never had such feelings for anyone before."

"But you never said anything." She said.

"I was confused as well, just was you were. I cannot even say it was love, but I do know that I hoped it would be. I was gone so much, and worried about raids and the attacks that had started on the outlying villages that a lot of it I pushed aside to do my duty. I did not think about it much when I was tracking and killing orcs and brigands."

"I thought about you every day, Eomer. Every day that you were gone, I was worried that you would be killed, or captured and tortured, or -"

"And for that I am sorry. I am so sorry, Maerdwyn, to have put you through that. I truly am."

"Then why were you so angry when I left? I I was in your thoughts so little, why are you trying now?"

"Because, I have had to learn much since then, and even more since being crowned. I have had to learn to use my head instead of instinct and anger. You have no idea what it is like to be a protector of your people, only to ride into a burned village seeing the corpses of women and children, to feel as if you had failed. For years my rage is what fueled me, what made me as good as I was. I had to, else I probably would have gone insane from the horrors I have seen."

"I did not know, Eomer. I did not... No one ever told me anything of how bad it was getting, until it was too late."

"I know that now, but-" he stopped, and breathed deep, "but now it is over and done. I do not want to fight another war. I have seen too much killing and death. I want to start again, and try to make my life and my reign truly mean something."

"How? And why are you telling me? What does this have to do with me?" The questions flew from her lips, she was nervous, and did not know if she wanted an answer to the question that was buzzing in her head, but she had yet to voice.

"Because-" he paused again, a little nervous from what he wanted to say, "because I would like it very much if you gave me, gave us, another chance." He held his breath, unsure how she would respond, especially after years of bad blood on both sides.

"Are you sure that you could? I have done some horrible things, Eomer. I left, I hurt you, and you found another to love. Lothiriel was wonderful, she was my friend, but you loved her first. Do you think you could love again? Love me?" Her voice was trembling.

"I cannot answer that now. I told you, I do not think what I felt for you years ago was love, but perhaps the beginning of it, and then when I had to go away so often, it drew us apart. And then-" he laughed softly, "and then I believe stubbornness on both our parts happened to make that distance between us get even wider."

"I have cared about you ever since we were young, Eomer. I never stopped. But I was unfaithful to the man I swore myself to. How can you put that aside now?"

"I know you only married Baeor because you believed I had abandoned you, that you had no other chance for a life. I can forgive you."

"But I do not know if I can forgive myself. I have always tried to be honorable, to live a good and ethical life. But after that night, I have held myself an oathbreaker."

"Can you try to forgive yourself?" Eomer queried, "I mean, if your own king can forgive a moral shortcoming, then surely you can as well. Gods know he has enough shortcomings himself."

"I do not know, Eomer. I can only say that I will try."

"That is good. Now, where were we?" He looked at her, pulling her chin up again, "Are you willing to try for me now, Maerdwyn? We are both still young, we have both known pain and loss, but I know that I do not want to spend the rest of my life miserable and alone. I will never forget my Lothiriel, she was a treasure to me, but she told me herself that if anything ever happened to her, she wanted me to try and find happiness."

"I will never replace her, Eomer. You know that."

He looked sad for a moment, remembering his wife, "I know that. And I am not asking you to replace her. The two of you are very different, Maerdwyn. Almost like night and day. You could make me happy as well, but there will always be a place in my heart for her."

"And I want you to understand that I will always have a place for Baeor. He was a good man. He tried very much to make me as happy as he could, even when he knew I did not love him. I will forever regret that I did not make him as happy as I could have."

"I understand. We will both live with regrets, and wishes of what could have been. But I want to be happy, Maerdwyn. I do not want to live out my life and reign with no one by my side. And I know Lothiriel would not mind Elfwine calling someone else mother, if she could not be the one there to do it."

Maerdwyn started crying. Eomer was confused. He hugged her to him, "Did I say something wrong?"

She started to laugh with the tears, "Oh, no, Eomer, you did not say something wrong! I am just very happy right now."

"Good" And he hugged her to him once again, kissing her on the forehead.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

Eowyn sighed and smiled to herself, standing on the balcony to her room. It was just past midnight, the torches had gone out, and she was standing in the dark. Eomer and Maerdwyn were walking out of the woods, holding hands, and both of them were smiling as they went back inside the building. A set of arms snaked their way around her middle, to clasp in front of her.

"What are you grinning to yourself about?" Faramirs voice asked softly behind her. He put his chin on top of her head. It was one of the things she liked about him. She was tall, very few of the Rohirrim men were taller. But Faramir was of Dunedain ancestry, taller than the average, and it pleased her to have a man almost a head taller. It made her feel safe.

"Oh, a couple of reasons." She answered. Should she tell him now? She wanted to, very badly.

"Care to let me in on the secret?" She turned around and smiled, beaming up at the man who would be her husband in just a few short days.

"Well, I am glad that I spoke to my brother earlier." She had told Faramir of the tension she had felt when the Rohirric court had arrived. "I just saw him and Maerdwyn, and they seem to have made up."

"Good for them. Maybe they will be the better for it."

"I certainly hope so. They always cared for one another, even if it never grew into anything more. But they are both alone now, their mates have both passed on. I want them both to be happy."

"As do I, dearest. I am still sorry for what I said months ago."

"Oh, you have been forgiven, Faramir. And after months of being around some of your noble Gondorian friends I am happy you were not worse!"

He chuckled softly. "Anything else? You said there was more than one thing making you happy."

Eowyn looked at him, smiling. She would tell him. Here. Now. She did not think she could wait longer anyway. She reached out and took both his hands in hers.

"My dearest Faramir, I have the most wonderful news." She said no more.

"Yes?" He asked, and she blushed and looked down at her feet, then looking back up, she took the hands she was holding and placed them, gently, over her lower stomach.

"What is this?" He asked, not quite understanding. Then, comprehension dawned on his face, and he smiled so wide that even in the dark his teeth reflected the moonlight.

"Truly, dearest?" He asked. She smiled as widely as he, and nodded her head, tears coming to her eyes. Faramir jumped against her, drawing her into a tight embrace. He drew back, his own eyes glistening, and knelt in front of her. He put his hands on her stomach, then kissed it.

"So there is a little prince or princess of Ithilien in there." He looked up at the woman he thought more beautiful than anything, and now thought she had gotten even more beautiful.

"How long have you been-?" He asked. Eowyn giggled. He had been nervous ever since they had begun being together six months prior. She had not wanted to wait, and neither had he. More than two years of betrothal, all because he had wanted their manor completely built and perfect, had taken its toll on their self restraint. They had both been worried that Eowyn would become with child, too early, and cause an outrageous scandal. Eowyn giggled again.

"The last time my monthlies came around was two months ago, love. No one will suspect anything. It will simply look like he or she is born a month or two early, that is all."

Faramir audibly sighed with relief. "Well that is good. I do not feel we have done anything wrong but-"

"But you do not need to start your stewardship of Ithilien with scandal. I understand, beloved. And on that more, I have a request."

"Yes?" He asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I would like to invite Maerdwyn to stay with us until the babe is born."

"Maerdwyn? Why? She is not a healer."

"Well, not officially, no. But she did study it a great deal. She wanted to know healing in case we were ever caught unawares and injured."

"Why? You two never fought from what I have heard."

"We did, together, in the Glittering Caves of Helms Deep. We also helped with most of the wounded that were there and brought back to Edoras."

"What does that have to with her staying here? Not that I mind, but I am curious."

"She has studied childbirth, and midwifery, and she was there for Lothiriel. In fact, I think if the healers had listened to her, Lothiriel perhaps may have lived."

"What?!" Faramir was shocked.

"She was always very careful with keeping herself clean, hot water, soap, liquor, strong bitter spirits, she used them all on her hands and arms whenever she deals with a wounded man. It is supposed to keep away infection and suppuration. It is a newer idea, and many older healers do not believe it works."

"But what does this have to do with Lothiriel?"

"Childbed fever is an infection of the womb. I was there with her in the birthing chamber. We were both there as aids to the midwife. I heard Maerdwyn asking the woman to wash her hands in alcohol, but the woman said hot water was enough. It may have played a part in the infection. I do not think just a washing of the hands would do it. Lothiriel was in labor a long time, many women who have a labor that lasts three days do not live anyway, but a part of me always wondered if the midwife had listened to her, she might have survived."

Faramir looked very upset, walking to the balcony and leaning his hands on it, "It is a little late to worry about that now."

"No, it is not." He looked over at her "I know that the longest labor is usually the first, unless there is something wrong, like the child being backwards or having twins. I am frightened, Faramir. This is our first child. I do not want some old midwife who will not listen to reason. I want Maerdwyn here for me, I trust her more than I trust anyone. And," she added, the corners of her mouth turning up, "she will say nothing about the babe coming earlier than expected."

Faramir smiled at that. "Then you must ask her. Will she stay?"

"I do not see why not. Why do you ask?"

"Did not you just say that she and Eomer had made up? Will they not want their own time?"

"Perhaps, but I will ask my brother as well. He will say nothing about an early pregnancy either."

"Very well, but ask them soon. I want to let them know before they have a chance to get to involved with one another." He grinned. "If they are not already."

Eowyn laughed too, and then bid Faramir goodnight, retiring to her room.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

The next morning, Eowyn walked down the large double staircase and into the dining hall. A simple but filling breakfast had been laid out, and there were a few people seated around the long table, quietly eating and drinking hot herb tea. She was pleased to see Eomer and Maerdwyn sitting next to one another, the latter with Elfwine on her lap, feeding him little spoonfuls of cooked oats drizzled with honey and mixed with dried fruit. Her bother looked up as she walked in.

"Sister!" He said jovially, rising from his chair and walking over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Brother." She returned the greeting, kissing his cheek as well. "You seem to be in a better mood."

He smiled at her, then in hushed tones said, "Thank you for speaking to me last night."

"No thanks are needed, brother. I hope you came to your senses in time?" She whispered, grinning.

He looked embarrassed for a moment, "Er... Uh... Yes. Yes I did."

"Good. Now how about we enjoy a nice morning meal?" She walked back to the tables, sitting across from Eomer, Maerdwyn and the little prince. She spooned herself some of the boiled oats, and drizzled a little honey on it. She thought for a moment, and added some more. Lately she had found herself wanting more sweet things than she had ever wanted in her life. It made her smile as she thought of the reason why.

"Goodness, sister. Would you like some oats with your honey?" Eomer said across from the table, grinning at her.

"There are plenty of oats in the bowl, brother." She said, before mixing in a heaping spoonful of dried, chopped peaches that had been harvested from the orchards right outside the manor walls.

"Yes, but you have never been one for sweets. You always preferred a good roast or vegetables over dessert." He looked at her. He remembered when Lothiriel had begun to crave things, too, and eyed her again, a little more suspiciously. "Is there something I should know, sister?"

Eowyn looked at him, smiling cheekily. "Yes, but I would like to discuss that with both you and Maerdwyn after breakfast, if you do not mind. I am famished at the moment, but I would love to show you the newly finished gardens and orchards on the grounds."

"Of course, my friend." Maerdwyn replied, looking up from wiping oats off Elfwines chin. She knew Eowyn was up to something, but she knew enough about court politics not to nag her publicly. She looked at Eomer, trying to tell him with her face and not her mouth.

He saw her, and subtly nodded. "Yes, sister. It was far too late to see the gardens properly when we arrived yesterday. We have nothing else planned for today."

Maerdwyn smiled at him. He had been right about one thing. Ten years ago she would not have bet that he would have been comfortable or able in any kind of courtly intrigue or politicking. Now it had barely taken a look from her and he had understood.

"I can leave the little prince here with Haiwen when we go. He can walk a little, but not very far before he gets cranky."

"Of course, my friend." Eowyn said, smiling at the little child. It made her wish she were holding hers right now. She shook her head, ridding herself of the thought. That time would come soon enough. She picked up her spoon and dug into the severely sweetened oats.

When everyone was done, Eowyn and Eomer waited while Maerdwyn took Elfwine upstairs to Haiwen, and to change into something more appropriate for walking around outside. She came back wearing a long, light green, dress like tunic that reached the floor and was split up the sides to her hips, with a matching pair of trousers underneath. It was common clothing for a woman of Rohan, but it was a little different from the normal attire of Gondorian females.

Eomer saw the outfit and smiled. He liked seeing her in pants. It reminded him of when they were younger, before everything had changed. She had worn gowns mostly after his crowning and marriage, and he did not like to see her in them as much as the old training outfits.

"Oh, brother, stop staring. You will have more than enough time to ogle her at the wedding feast." Eowyn whispered with a smile as Maerdwyn came down the stairs.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because I have commissioned a gown for her. She has had the same measurements since she was seventeen. No doubt constant sword training and no children are to thank for that. I sent them to my seamstress months ago. I thought it would be a nice surprise for her."

"What does it look like?" He asked.

"Now, now, brother, what is the point of a surprise if I tell you?" She had answered, and before he could protest Maerdwyn had completed her descent and was too close to them now even for whispering. The three turned and walked through the kitchens and out into the gardens, then further and into the orchard.

They were surrounded by dozens of fruit trees, some still with heavy hanging fruit, the last of the years bounty ripening on the branches. The smell of peaches and plums was overwhelming, and if they had not just eaten, it would have made them hungry. Eowyn led them leisurely to a back corner of the orchard, almost to the forest beyond, before she came to a very old and very large pear tree, and leaned her back against the trunk.

"This is the first tree ever planted for this orchard, more than a hundred years ago when Ithilien was still good and green. The people here have taken to calling it the grandfather." She ran her hand along the gnarled old bark.

Maerdwyn plucked a pear that was still hanging within reach, held it to her nose, and smelled it. "This tree has good fruit." She said. Then she dropped all pretense that she was interested in the tree, her hand dropping to her side, the pear forgotten. "Now, tell us why you had to drag us all the way to the edge of the property. What do you need to tell us that is so secret and so important? We have not even been in Ithilien for a day!"

"I could never fool you!" Eowyn answered, giggling.

"Maerdwyn is right, sister. What has you bringing us so far from prying eyes?"

Eowyn became more serious. "Actually, there is something. Two somethings, really."

"Yes?" Maerdwyn asked.

"Well, I was wondering of, perhaps, Maerdwyn, if you wanted to stay here with me and Faramir, for a little while. It is rather nice, and I would love to have you here with me."

Maerdwyn looked confused for a moment. "But I am here. Were going to be here for several days for your wedding."

"Yes, I know, but I meant a bit longer than that."

"How long? And why?"

"Well, for a few months, actually. Seven or eight at least." Eomer frowned.

"But that is nearly a year, sister! Why?"

"I am getting to that point, Eomer. The reason why is because I want Maerdwyn here with me when,-" she paused, taking a deep breath, "- when I give birth." There, she had said it.

Eomers and Maerdwyns eyes opened in shock. "What?" They both asked in unison.

"I am with child. It is not all that hard to understand, is it?"

"But, your wedding is in three days! How could you be-" Eomer began, then he grinned. "I knew I should never have let you leave alone with that man. How did he convince you?"

"Actually, it was I who convinced him." She said in a quiet voice. "I was tired of waiting. We have been betrothed for more than two years. He wanted to wait until this place was finished. He wanted me to have a nice home, but for me it took too long."

Eomers eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair. "I should have known that, too. When you want something, Eowyn, you get it. How far are you? Will it not cause a scandal?"

"No, it should not. I am just over a month, mayhaps two, late for my monthlies."

Maerdwyn piped up now, "So it will look as if you are a month or two early, but not so early that it is talked about." She was grinning at her friend.

"Yes, exactly."

"Now, tell me, sister, what does this have to do with Maerdwyn?"

"I trust her with my life, brother. She has studied healing, a lot of it. I want her here with me because she knows what she is doing, she is skilled, I have known her since childhood, and because... because..." She hesitated at saying the last part.

"Because?" Eomer prompted her.

"Because after last winter I am frightened. I am so frightened that something will happen. Faramir is part Dunedain, he is nearly seven feet tall, big and muscular, I do not know how large his child will grow." She was almost shaking, fear for what could happen to her overruling her usually iron tough control of her emotions.

Maerdwyn stepped up to her, drawing her into a tight embrace. "It is alright, Eowyn. Nothing is going to happen. I would be happy and honored to stay here and help you." She looked at Eomer as she hugged his sister, and while he looked unhappy at the prospect of being separated for months, he grimly nodded his head in understanding. He stepped up to the two women, and hugged them both.

"It will be alright, sister. If Maerdwyn knows as much as you say, then she must stay. I do not want you to worry. Everything will turn out just fine."

In his head, however, was a fervent prayer to the gods to spare his sister from what had befallen his own dear wife. _Please, Valar_, he thought silently, _let her be safe._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - An Autumn Wedding

Three days later, the usually quiet manor was abustle with activity and fretting women. All of the maids and servants in charge of decorations and the planning of the feast scurried around, bumping into one another, frantic for everything to be done perfectly and on time. Everyone involved would look back on those days with humor, though at the time everyone seemed to think nothing would go right.

More guests had arrived, including King Elessar and Queen Arwen, and their entourage. Gimli and Legolas had arrived, separately from the Glittering Caves and the more forested part of Ithilien where the elves had founded a small colony in the trees. Merry and Pippin had come all the way from the Shire, accompanied by a few of Aragorns ranger friends and his adoptive twin brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, bringing with them many ponies laden with bounteous wedding gifts from their homeland.

Their small mounts seemed quite happy to be relieved of their burden of apples, pumpkins, gourds, fresh ground flour, and rashers of ham, bacon and salted pork from the years crop of hogs. Many of the men cheered when the two hobbits unpacked two of the ponies, to reveal barrels upon barrels of Green Dragon ale and both Old Toby and Longbottom Leaf, along with two crates filled with corncob and clay pipes for those men who did not already have them. Merry and Pippin were planning for a grand party indeed.

Eowyns personal seamstress, Alirie, had been there, putting last minute adjustments on Eowyns wedding gown, a beautiful ensemble of silk and lace layers dyed a rich pastel blue that complemented her golden hair. Maerdwyn was there, helping to pin up one sleeve so the seamstress could sew a last gold ribbon on the waistline.

Eowyn was nervous, she had confided to Maerdwyn earlier that she hoped she wasn't gaining enough weight for the fit of the dress to be noticed. Maerdwyn had reassured her that it was fine, and there was enough flouncy lace and ribbon to hide the small amount she would have gained in only two months. Eowyn was glad she had chosen a more Rohirric style of dress, without a corset, as she was afraid of crushing the baby, no matter how small it was.

Finally, well past midday, Alirie had deemed the dress finished and perfect. She had hung it with care over a headless wooden mannequin in a corner of Eowyns room. She promised to be at the manor at first light the next day, to help her in getting it on, then she left for a quiet night. She had politely declined an invitation to the women's party, saying that a hangover was the last thing she would need before an hour went into getting Eowyn into her dress.

There were two parties going on that night, one inside for the women, and a separate one outside for the men. Since all the guests had arrived, Faramir and Eowyn had been kept apart, by tradition the bridegroom was not supposed to see his bride before the wedding. It was an old tradition, kept in practice only because it was fun to try and keep the soon to be couple apart in the days leading up the to the actual wedding.

There were always times when they were allowed to 'accidentally' bump into one another on the way to a meal, or on a chaperoned walk. Usually that was reserved for younger couples; Eowyn and Faramir were old enough that most people had just let them alone, until the week of the actual wedding, when many people took pleasure in seeing the frustrated faces of either of them when they whisked them away from one another before a word could be spoken.

The women's party was quiet, they sat around the large table in the dining hall, drinking wine or, in Eowyns case, hot apple cider, telling stories of their own wedding days and, more specifically, wedding nights. Eowyn was very good at acting astonished when one of the older women described in detail one or another of the acts of copulation. Sometimes they would tell a funny story and the room would dissolve into fits of amused girlish giggling.

In comparison to the women, the men were in a raucous mood, getting louder and louder with each uncorked barrel. It was not long before the two halflings were on top of one of the tables, twirling and singing bawdy tavern songs and playing drinking games with the others. Despite their small size, they competed well with their larger opponents, lasting well past the halfway point of the competition before they were carried to their chambers soundly and drunkenly asleep.

With a feeling of happy anticipation, both groups were abed just past midnight, no one wanting to be too sleepy or hungover for the next days festivities. It was late, and Maerdwyn had just tucked in a very sleepy Elfwine and changed into her night clothes when she heard a knock on her chamber door. It was Eomer, a little drunk but none the worse for wear.

"Yes? Is everything alright, Eomer?" She asked. He smiled drunkenly at her.

"You know, it makes me very happy to hear you saying my name. I hate all the title spewing that comes out of everyone's mouths." He swayed a little, putting his arm up above his head to hold onto the doorframe.

"To be honest, so do I. But it is custom, even for our people. Gods know what little details are known for the Gondorians, though. It seems they have a title for everything and everyone, noble or not."

"Yes." He answered. And then he just stood there, staring at her through tired, slitted eyes,smiling a little stupidly.

"What did you want? I have a lot to do tomorrow morning. I need to get to bed."

"Uh.. Yes... Yes, of course. It is just that, it is still a bit awkward for me to speak to you, after years of ignoring one another. You are much better than I."

She smiled, ducking her head for a moment before looking back up. "That is only because I gave more attention to my tutors than you. You always wanted to be outside with your horse and sword."

"No more than you!" He argued, laughing as he said it. "I just wanted to wish you a peaceful night, Maerdwyn. I doubt anyone has done that in a while." She smiled again.

"No, they have not. Thank you. I hope you sleep well also, by the amount you have drunk I do not think that will be a problem." He shook his head, smiling as he did so, hair falling in his face.

"No, I will probably not have a problem. But I did want to do one more thing."

"Yes?" She answered. He leaned closer to her, gripping the doorframe, and kissed her. It was only for a few seconds, but it was still sweet. He leaned back, looking at her with slightly glassy eyes.

"Sleep well, Maerdwyn." She giggled a little.

"And you also, Eomer. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." He said, smiling at her as he turned away and walked down the hall to his room.

Maerdwyn quietly closed her door, leaning against it, and wrapped her arms around herself, smiling.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o

At sunup Maerdwyn, balancing a tray of hot tea and muffins, knocked on Eowyns door. She did not answer. After a moment Maerdwyn opened the door and went in. The bed was empty, and Maerdwyn felt a moments panicked before she heard a retching sound from the washroom.

Maerdwyn put the tray down and went into the room. Eowyn was bent double over a bucket, trying to hold her hair out of the way so as not to get sick on it. Maerdwyn knelt beside her and grabbed the locks, holding them up and away as Eowyn bent double again, both hands grasping the edges of the bucket. Her back arched and she coughed. Maerdwyn sat there silentky , keeping her friends hair out of the mess. After a while, the retching stopped, and Eowyn sat back on her heels.

"Ugh!" She said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "That will not last for the whole of the pregnancy will it?" She looked at Maerdwyn.

"I do not think so, Eowyn. From what I understand, morning sickness does not last past the first three or four months unless there is something wrong. Lothiriel only had morning sickness until just past her fourth month."

"Ugh! I hate it!" Maerdwyn laughed.

"My friend, I do not think anyone enjoys it. But now, there are maids waiting outside with hot water for a bath. Let us not go mentioning morning sickness. Let us just say it is wedding nerves if anyone asks." Eowyn nodded her head.

Maerdwyn helped her to her feet and Eowyn went behind a changing screen to undress while Maerdwyn opened the door for the maids. They were ushered in quickly, emptying their steaming buckets quickly into the sunken stone tub and leaving. There were many baths to draw today, and they had many more tubs to go.

As soon as the room was empty, Maerdwyn stocked the fire so it was burning high, the morning was quite chilly, and helped Eowyn to strip and get into the steaming tub. With a quickness she used a bar of chamomile and lavender soap to wash Eowyns hair, while Eowyn concentrated on everywhere else. When she was through, she stepped out of the tub and Maerdwyn quickly wrapped a fur blanket around her to dry her off and impede the chill morning air.

Eowyn sat by the fire, drinking the hot tea, nibbling a little at the muffins. Maerdwyn was bustling about the room, setting up small pots of cosmetics and perfume, and getting out the thin undergarments that Eowyn would wear under her dress.

"Maerdwyn?" Eowyn asked, her bare feet curled under her in the large chair.

"Hmm?" Maerdwyn answered distractedly, pulling a small wooden jewelry box from a cabinet.

"How about you take advantage of the hot water? Go and take a bath. I can manage to dry myself off and brush my hair."

"I am fine. I bathed yesterday."

"But I would like you to enjoy it too. A hot bath is a luxury, you know that. I insist."

"Are you sure?" Eowyn laughed, sipping at her cup of tea.

"Yes, I am sure, Maerdwyn. Please?"

"Oh, fine, if it would make you happy."

"It would. It is my wedding day, and I want no arguments from anyone." She said with a giggle.

"Is your stomach feeling better? I made you chamomile and mountain mint tea. It is good for upset stomachs."

"Yes, much better."

"Alright then." And she grabbed an extra fur blanket from the linen closet and went into the washroom, closing the door behind her.

As soon as Eowyn heard her splash into the tub, she got up and tiptoed to the door. She opened it, and Alirie was standing there, holding a paper wrapped package. She peered into the room.

"Is she occupied?" She whispered, and Eowyn nodded.

"Yes." She whispered back, "I insisted that she take a bath as well. She just got in. We have a few minutes." She ushered the slightly older woman inside.

Alirie tiptoed in and, setting the package gently on one of the tables of the room, began to carefully unwrap it. "What do you think, my lady?" Eowyn walked over, and gasped when she saw what was inside.

"It is perfect!"

Inside the thin brown paper packaging was a gown. It would almost rival Eowyns wedding gown. It was a light, pastel shade of sea foam green silk, with golden hemming and an intricate design of Rohirric knots embroidered into the neckline and hem, as well as the front panels of the sewn in bodice. Eowyn carefully draped it over the high back of one of the chairs.

"She will love it!" She exclaimed, pulling it from the package and letting it unroll to the floor. She looked back at Alirie. "Did you bring the roses?"

Alirie nodded, "Picked them fresh from the gardens as I was coming here. I cut them and put vials of water on each end. They will not wilt until far later this evening." She pulled a bouquet from another box, roses of bright yellow. "They will go beautifully with both gowns."

"Good! Wonderful, Alirie, thank you!" Eowyn took them and placed them gently in an empty urn. "Now, to business. Maerdwyn!" She called.

"Yes?" Came the reply from beyond the washroom door.

"Are you nearly done? Alirie is here for the fitting."

"Just a moment! I need to rinse my hair." Eowyn and Alirie heard her splashing as she dipped her head in the water, then wet splats as she emerged dripping from the tub. A moment later, and she came out, a robe tied around her and a thick cloth wrapped around her hair.

"Hello, Alirie!

"Good morning, my lady." Alirie replied.

"Are you ready to get her all tied up?" Maerdwyn joked with a glint in her eye. Eowyn giggled.

"There is plenty of time for that. Let us get you trussed up first." Maerdwyn looked over at the blond Lady of Ithilien.

"But I am going to change later. I already have a gown laid out and prepared in my chamber."

"No, you do not. You have one right here." Eowyn said, pointing to the chair. Maerdwyn looked, and gasped.

"You did not!" Eowyn smiled.

"I did. It has been far too long since you were given a nice gift. And I want you to match me as my Lady of Honor."

"What? You want me as your Lady of Honor?"

"I do, Maerdwyn. You are my best friend in the whole of Arda. Who else would I have given it to?"

"I am sure there are plenty of Gondorian ladies who would more than welcome the honor of-"

"Of being able to parade at my side to show themselves off. They would care nothing for the actual honor of being a Lady of Honor. It is MY wedding, after all. I get a say in who my companion for the day can be." She smiled at Maerdwyn. "Now, get dressed!"

Two hours later, and Alirie was adding the final touches to the pretty women. She smiled as she tucked the last yellow rose into Eowyns carefully braided and twisted hair. The two women looked into the mirror one last time, both grinning and giggling with excitement.

Just as Maerdwyn was plucking the last slightly crinkled petal from one of Eowyns roses, a knock came at the door. Alirie answered it while the two young women were fussing in the mirror.

She came back a moment later. "That was the house herald, my lady. He says the guests are all assembled in the gardens, and the groom and his Lord of Honor are ready and at their places."

Eowyn bit back a nervous shudder. Maerdwyn looked at her friend.

"It will all be fine, Eowyn. Just remember not to trip on your train."

"It is not THAT long."

"For women of battle like us, it is atrociously long. Think of everything you could snag it on in a battlefield." She laughed as Eowyns eyes went wide. "I have not seen you trip on anything since you were ten years old. Now, let us get out there so your soon to be husband can drop his jaw and forget his vows when he sees you in this beauty of a gown."

The manor was strangely silent as Alirie went ahead of them, holding open doors so that Eowyn, with Maerdwyn following and holding her train, could walk through the house unhindered. When they reached the last large double doors that led into the garden, Aragorn was waiting just inside. Maerdwyn arranged the train, then, giving one last wink at her friend, slipped through the doors to take her place near the end of the aisle.

Eomer, in place as Faramirs Lord of Honor, felt much the same as he had at Midwinter almost ten years before. The dress, while vastly different in color, still suited her like a second skin. The light green enhanced her eyes, and the golden embroidery and yellow roses in her hair subtly drew attention to the honey color of her hair and the tan she had gained during the sunny summer. Again, for the dozenth time, he silently cursed himself for his stubbornness.

It was almost a chore for him to tear his eyes away and pay attention when the music started. Minstrels began playing, a slow yet invigorating tune on lutes, one musician had a full standing harpsichord, and two others had little bells with different tones that they rang in time with the plucking and drawing of the strings.

Two footmen walked up to the double doors, and with a flourish, opened them wide. Eomer heard Faramir gasp as the sun beamed down upon his bride, as she stood in the doorway, one arm tucked under King Ellessars. She smiled as the ruler of Gondor strode down the middle aisle, walking beside him. Her eyes were all for Faramir, dressed to the nines in a fresh tunic, made of the same blue silk as Eowyns, the new pants and doublet on top of the shirt a rich midnight blue.

For Faramir, the short walk seemed to take days, and then, almost before he could believe it, Aragorn had stopped, taking Eowyns hand and placing it in Faramirs, before gliding past them and standing on the small stone dais that had been erected. The music slowed, trilled down to a soft murmur, then stopped altogether. Aragorn raised his hands high in the air, and everyone stood and grew silent as he began to speak.

"Friends and allies of the ancient and noble realm of Gondor, we are gathered on this day to bear witness to the joining of two souls. One Lord Faramir, Steward of Gondor, Prince of Ithilien, hero of the Battle of Osgiliath, and Lady Eowyn, White Lady of Rohan, Lady of the Shield Arm, Lady of Steel, slayer of the Witch King of Angmar."

A chorus of calls and applause sounded from the gathered guests. Aragorn smiled as he continued.

"Faramir." He said, and Faramir turned to him and knelt down on one knee. "Do you, as the proclaimed Prince of the realm of Ithilien and Steward of the realm of Gondor, avow and affirm before the fourteen gods to bond with this woman, to care for her and your children, and to keep her in happiness until the end of your days?"

"I do." Faramir answered, firmly and loudly so that all could hear. Aragorn smiled, and turned to Eowyn.

"Eowyn." He said, and Eowyn, too, turned and knelt on the stone. "Do you, as the proclaimed Lady of the Shield Arm and the Lady of Steel, of the House of Eorl of Rohan, avow and affirm before the fourteen gods to bond with this man, to care for him and your children, and to keep him in happiness until the end of your days?"

"I do!" Came the loud and happy answer. Aragorn turned to address the crowd.

"As seen before you all, so doth these two souls propose to join and become one with one another. Do you all bear witness?"

There was a loud cheer from the assembled group.

"Then in the light and eyes of the highest court of Arda, I, Elessar Telcontar, King of the men of the West, of the realms of Arnor and Gondor, doth proclaim these two souls bound in heart, bound in mind, bound in soul for all eternity. Look into the eyes of the other and say the words."

Eowyn and Faramir turned to each other, clasping hands, and both began to speak in time with the other.

"In the name of the gods, we proclaim our hearts, our minds, our souls as one. I am theirs and they are mine, from this day, until the end of my days."

A deafening cheer exploded from the onlookers as Faramir swept his lady into an embrace, and kissed her so deeply that it was almost scandalous. Eomer laughed and patted Faramir on the shoulder, Maerdwyn came forward bearing a small pillow, and she and Eomer each took rings off it, and handed them over to the respective newlyweds.

With much aplomb and weeping, Eowyn and Faramir took turns placing the golden wedding bands on the others finger, then embraced again as a final cheer went up from the gathered guests.

From there, all of the quiet orderliness that had been thrown out the proverbial window. The guests surged forward, and for many minutes the newlyweds were separated by a raucous crowd patting them on the backs and offering congratulations.

From there, everyone slowly filtered towards the outdoor tables that had been set up. There was a long head table with several seats, where the bride and groom, their Lady and Lord of Honor and the more important guests were seated. Behind it was another long, unadorned table to hold the gifts that would be given during the day.

Perpendicular to the head table were four other long tables for the other guests, festooned with large bouquets of flowers from the garden and lacy tablecloths and large candelabras that would be lit once it got dark. It was a cool, crisp autumn afternoon, not too cool and not too hot. In a word, perfect for an outdoor wedding.

As soon as everyone had sat, the minstrels hurried over to place themselves between the head table and the others and struck up a lively tune while servants from the household began filtering through the tables, bearing trays of appetizing foods and small snacks before the main part for the feast that would begin a couple of hours later. Three serving women darted back and forth with large pitchers, one with wine, one with ale, and one with mead that had been brought as Eomers wedding gift to his sister.

Different couples and people were walking up to the head table, bowing appropriately before the two kingly guests before offering their congratulations to the newlywed couple. Many brought up their wedding gifts to present at the same time, and before long the gift table nearly looked ready to collapse under the wight of beautiful cups and dinnerware, long bolts of cloth so the couple could make matching outfits for social functions, and many bottles of wine and mead from different corners of the realm.

But the most important gifts, which Eowyn and Faramir had specifically requested from the majority of the gift-givers, was seeds. They were rebuilding what had been called the Garden of Gondor. They wanted to serve their people as well as they could, and had asked the guests to bring them seeds from as many trees, fruits, vegetables and flowers as possible. They would go to good use in the next few years as they rebuilt the area that had been ravaged by the war.

It was a selfless gesture, when many nobles would try to get as many gifts as possible to further their own personal wealth. For the new rulers of Ithilien to give more than half of their wedding gifts back to the people increased the respect that the people already had for them in spades.

After the gift-giving and well-wishing, the sun was nearly down, and the candelabras were lit and the main course was served. Merry and Pippins gifts went a long way in feeding the hungry horde, and afterwards the couples went to dance in the courtyard of the gardens.

Eowyn and Faramir led the dancing, followed by Aragorn and Arwen, then Maerdwyn and Eomer. Soon everyone was dancing, and it lasted well into the night. Eowyn and Faramir left early, amidst a hail of hooting and hollering from the crowd. Maerdwyn glanced sideways at Eomer, and the two grinned, knowing full well what was going to happen.

As the doors closed behind the departing couple, Eomer took her hand and kissed it, and she blushed, looking up at him through batting eyelashes, and smiled.

**A/N So yeah... this one is a little shorter than the other ones but it was a good spot to end it I think.**

**This story now has more than 800 views! It makes me very happy that I am apparently doing well enough for people to come back and read my new stuff. But I have less than ten reviews. * Sad Face* I wanna know what you guys think! Am I doing good, bad, somewhere in-between? Do you like where the story is headed? Do I have a good flow? LEMME KNOW PLEASE I LOVE YOU ALL!**


End file.
